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.


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