In the rich inhuman earth, I wish to dig Myself a grave, deeper than the darkest Act of time And stretch myself out on a rack of ease To sleep obliteration Like a shark in a storm Hating testaments and Christ's cracked stones Before I'd ask you to mourn I'd go alive and call the crows To gut the last scrap of my carrion You worms! Black amities without eye Or ear, a dead man Enters your dirt with a celebrant's heart, Feasting philosophers, beasts Born of decay Come, plunder my ruins Without a shudder in your blood As no torture is left to dread For this old, soulless flesh Dead as the dead.