Ever wonder why?
People don’t approach,
the stench of death
scares them off
I believe.
I wonder, how I survived to this day
Alone, even before birth or death
in a bar
drinking alone
in a room full of people
scared to approach
they smell, I think, the stench of death.
Or maybe am repeating myself.
Does my flesh dispel a rotten smell?
Or is it that I emanate an otherness
so alien
am back in that game
nor I am from here nor there
in this wasteland.
So is it ever April, I wonder.