Condemned

The things we excrete

The fumes

Noxious

The breeze coming through the window

Bares no similarity

Allegedly

These gasses

Surrounding our rancid bodies

Constricting us

Ineptly propelling us

We gorge with ease

Creation is

Yet cannot be

Juxtaposed with scents so filthy

Forced to endure the pandemic

Recognizing the epidemic

Humans’ dynamism is slaughter

Putrid glances that inhibit rather than expose

Fictitious beliefs that weave our identities

Our ideal outcome

We CAN bleed

Even when the cherub’s flaming sword

Held outside the gates of Eden

After the two sinners were expelled

Is not always apparent

Windows close

Lights burn out

We vomit at our forthcomings

We look up

But the image in the mirror shatters

We smell it

But just vomit again

And still

We inhale

Cessation.