Derek R. Audette
Comments about Derek R. Audette
A Song For The Worms
Longer still they tear at my fetid heart
with minds that suffer like a dew draped leaf,
and through grand halls lined with bitter demur
my ersatz body is slowly produced.
In this garden of ubiquitous pain
they bear witness to this decrepit act.
I am no longer a child of the earth,
but a beast of famine who hungers not.