Pyosisified (Still Rotten to the Gore)

The lingering scirrhus begins to harden
 As the insides fall prey to putrefaction
 Rotting tissue turns to mush and pulp
 As your mind is torn by encephalitis
 Your cavities rot with ulcers
 Your infected inflammations torn
 Your gizzards eaten by incursive decay
 You're infernally rotten to the gore...
 Juices digested from each pus-swollen pore
 Insatiable hunger as I feast on the gore
 Nothing gives me greater pleasure
 Than a bowlful of chyme
 Maggot infested kidneys
 Are what I choose every time
 The smell of plaguing infection
 Is nauseatingly emetic
 Prolonged spumescence of stale pus
 Stinks like hot, purtid vomit
 Your body is indurate
 The insides are black as tar
 Your innards gnawed by septic hate
 Now a mass of empyaema
 Your blood is caked
 Dried and inconsistent
 Your bloody rotten gore
 Is now vitrescent