Around the edges of the dug grave
The worms lie waiting for the feast
Fresh the skin now lost of life
The redness in the cheeks
Turn to biting ice

Soil snuffs the nose and plugs
Eyes once viewing of the world
Into the many orifices
Squirming bugs crawl living
To satisfy the most divine law

No challenges await, the hole is filled
The rigor blends with the earth
Soon teeth and bone will only stay
And keep the superstitious away
From soul of whereabouts none know

All delight, enamored by the feast
The feast for worms of fleshly treat
Jellied odor of dissipating blood
Death’s bell for the hungry slivering
A feast of flesh for the worms


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