I'm rotten, don't touch me.
I cannot feel life, that which produces pain. I doubt that man is good, for he kills and dies for killing. I question gods, idols and the creator of galaxies.
I am rotting, insults come out of my mouth.
But I can still love you.
In my mind, demons live.
They come for tea at three o'clock.
In my eyes, the lie is reflected, they are jet-colored.
My arms are ropes, slide your neck and jump.
I become rotten every time I love, lie, destroy and steal.
Do not kiss my mouth. It is a source of bodily fluids.
I am in a state of decomposition,
I do not feel the experience of living.
I go suspended, strolling along the sidewalks, harvesting lives.
Owner of everything.
Walking dogs and men.
I am perishing, I feel anguish.
Fear sings lullabies to me.
Rats surround me, I feel the grass in my translucent arms.
I am rotting, I am biodegradable. Let me be absorbed by the earth.
I will no longer be sterile.
It rains, it blows, I die.
The experience is over.
I open my eyes, the receipt.
Flowers grow on me.
I stopped rotting
Now I am life.
Photography by Martin Canova
