On your soul, man
As in rot or even
I E mildew
It's starting to smell
Your soul that is
It irritates the senses
My sensory machinery
Is unhappy and
Overwhelmed
And you've leaked some
Over all over
There
It's lying there trembling
A puddle on the floor
Clean up your soul, darling
Clean up your face
Place of
Refuge
Grab some respect and stop your
Drooling
And that black spot won't come out
I know and, erragh, I know
Mine too is
Long lasting
Tarnish though
And not gangrene -ish
Like yours
And leaking there
Out and onto
The upholstery
By: Daniel Smallegange
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