What lies behind your eyes?
What secrets sleep in the
Twists and turns of synaptic
Mazes of psychosis in your mind?

You blew a hole through your
Parents' bodies and laughed
As the carcasses hit the floor
Like a sack of flour.

You sat and watched Letterman
As they twitched with rigor
Mortis, and you munched popcorn
As blood cooled and flesh died.

"I don't remember" is such a
Convenient excuse for the
Death sentence you have charged
Them with.

"The devil made me do it" or
"I'm truly sorry" won't reanimate
The dead flesh before you...

You had to show off your handiwork
To your girlfriend -- hoping she
Would jack off your ego.

You dream of your parents returning
To wreak unholy vengeance upon
Your immortal soul...

You're as good as dead now,
A living corpse -- on a short
Detour through Purgatory before
Your descent into Hell.

Enjoy your stay, you bastard.
  
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