The Canister

Mayst thine nightly slumbers,
Be possessed, dreary, encumbered;
Mayst the accursed flames of Hell,
Despised by all, wretched beyond compel;
Consume thee, thine flesh of despair,
O ye, mayst thou suffer beyond compare.
Burn, quench my bloodlust,
Spill your guts, I thirst,
For thine sinewy agony,
Thine tortured cries, mine undying harmony.