Jars The Black Dahlia Murder

My jars, wonderful jars, each labeled, sealed, and stowed
Beneath the cellar floor where not a soul would ever know
Preserved, my sustenance, to last the entire winter long
These jars, my precious meat brined and pickled cuts of human beef

Row after row
A pantry full of enemies
Maintained and organized
A vast collection dear to me
Each one a toy of mine
I revisit them when I should eat
With zeal I recollect
That very moment of their defeat

Salting and curing every piece for my flesh feast
(In jars) vessels immaculate
Cylindrical and clean (Their heads in jars)
The lightless winter months
Have gone straight to my brain, know what I mean?

Here in my solitude
Fed by my stock of dead (preserved in jars)
Their facial features warp
The laughter never ends
My foe, I win