Profane appetites once inflamed my being, but now my yearnings are unconsecrated. Before, I understood just how to scaffold them—clever tactics and the heady thrill of plotting each gruesome tableau, engineering every lurid detail as a painter filling his spattered canvas. Now my brushes, chained at my sides, gather dust. I'm a ravenous addict denied my fix as I languish in this cell. Please, let me be filled up again with the warmth of those cravings—blood tasted sweet before they wrapped this noose around my neck. My last meal, my own body to feed me...maybe then I'll finally be satisfied.