The outdoor dirt
opens wide the mould within my being.
And here I am for days.
I feel stiff, lying under the slurry,
allowing the worms to eat me alive.
The dusty tarp covers my own shame
of being just another rotten body, clogging this sewer,
without even realizing it.
I pile up all the garbage from above, thrown under the carpet.
The black powder is burning my pores for days and it comes from the same spot
(that assures the white powder keeps burning the nostrils from up above.)
And my body keeps rotting in this street.