Flies

flies love my hands
and they dance around my eyes.
the scent of death lingers over my flesh
tainting my nature and nurtures rot.
memories of rotting, matted fur haunt my skin
and i let my eyes close to welcome the night.

i taste most profound death,
small random bites, dropping like flies.
hidden spirits lightly touch the bones
of a forgotten and overlooked faceless grin.
plants grow between me, pulling me towards the earth
and i feel my body disappear.