Rotting Flesh

I am rotting flesh. Ambivalent and obnoxious, but content with the irrational idea that I am immortal. As I walk through the path of life, I hemorrhage thoughts. My naked body, impregnated with ideals…exposes the divine truth of the defined sacredness of a goddess. My womb has silently concealed its artsy life giving power. My breasts with scarcity foster the image of the fountain of life. I rather find them amusing mortals. I curtail my hips from collecting the souls of those who in their biological need try to disperse their seed. As I bare my bones for the people to see that an immortal like me cannot be part of the "some" but instead part of the whole. I collect myself from the bloody path that disturbs the ultimate truth. My lungs collapse when I breathe arrogance and ignorance from the people that think that they indeed know what reality is. I proceed to live anonymously, putrefying along the way.