He is the wraith which is unconquerable
Maggots have stolen his voice and they escape through his gaping mouth
He has no hair, only worms
And torn bandages to keep warm
He is the bearer of all potential suffering and all rot
The embodiment of the spirit whose duty it is to administer
Infection and bacterial manifestations
Like an army of lice, picking at the ripe raw meat of fresh carrion
The horror is unbearable
A scab on the inside of his eyelid scrapes his vision fair
His luminous hand bears the salt which is rubbed
Into the wounds of the earth