Eulogy of Flies
When I perish,
only the flies
will mourn
my death.
Their multitudes
of eyes shall weep
and grieve as they
feast upon my
withering festered
corpse and sip the
briny nectar of stale
congealed blood.
Post mortem gifts
of larvae shall adorn
my skin, and legions
of maggots shall worship
at the shrine where
once stood my eyes.
And I shall be
briefly remembered...
heralded as lord of the flies
by the only beings
upon this earth that
mourn my passing...
with darting tongues
and eager mouths
my eulogy.
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