Foul, rank, stench-ridden, death-laden tomb
Beauty has a warped and garbled meaning here
I count the holes in the wall where the worms have tunneled through
Searching for the decaying, fleshy substance they crave
Ingestion and defacation of the putrefaction
A simple cycle that amazes me
Miraculously the worms have transformed the defilement
Into a pleasant, earthy aroma
Complimenting the dampness
In adding finesse to the normally grotesque odor of death
I recollect the similarities
Between this place, and marriage
On a given day, blessed matrimony may pay a homage to life
However, upon waking from this chimerical state
One receives confirmation of this delusion
And returns to the realization
That wedlock is merely the crypt it always has been
Fetid, putrid, stench-laden, death-ridden tomb
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