maggots crawling on rotten food, they slink and burrow in filth, wet and molding, make sick with foul odor, be it them or the wretch, is it what is or what transpires, I watch and cringe, after having opened the styrofoam box. how did I not see this before, was the smell released by me opening, have I been so filthy to not acknowledge what my scent is, is this why people won't stand by me, is it my lack of sense.
stop that stupid smile, I see it, she looks, you stupid grin, and another makes joke, you stupid anger, you shallow waters, you ankling, putrid shit.
sweating out my shirt, it sticks and stinks, they know my habits, I think they can't tell, I'm let off by reasoning, not that I reason, what reason have I. is there excuse for feeling. thou shalt not.
handsome man, looking sharp, still reeks of all his guilt.
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