fringe selvedges

troubling mumblesa not so subtleverbal tariffwhere the spoken soullies, in rubble.

I am a walking infection,a viral attack onanything I meet. I am painful,a wincing sorethat touches your very essence. I am a foul stink that erupts from each pore,of my being.

I come from a world with no nameI have not a feeling and no shameI am soulless and evilThe picture of feebleMy humaneness, held briefly, was pain.