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A putrid smell of rotten

Is slowly rising

It inebriates my senses

A lust for sickness

In my dreams

My rotten body

Lying on the cold

Impure ground

Worms desecrate

My open flesh

A smile of pleasure

On my face

Greenflies feasting on my tissues

They lay eggs in my flesh

The lust and pleasure for the dead

Impure images of death

In my veins

The Larvae are growing

My ocular bulbs

Are empty and carved

A nest of worms

In my brain

Squirming and twisting

And growing fast