Experimental viscous glowing goo
Dripping like whiskey from a moonshine still;
Convex lenses that offer up a view
Through veils of flesh to God's most secret will;
Something meaty is pulsing in a vat
Where electrodes spark on blue cadaver veins;
Arcane machinery squeals like a cat
And something in the dungeon shakes its chains;
The air is charged with static and mad dreams
As, on the brink of Immortality
The doctor grasps his lever, while the screams
of Reason drown out cries of "Blasphemy!"
Thunderheads cast their fires down through the night;
Below the hunchback dances with delight.
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