Ist

They are like flies round a carcas.
Destructive,
Gut wrentching.
I avoid their stares,
Contact is depurification.

I have no morbid fascination,
Not with their lives.
Contempt am i,
Contempt and disgust.
I morphed in to my own mould.

I was not a preconcieved ideal,
but embody dissapointment.
I can see how perfection
Worries them.
Virginity is unwholesome.

Loneliness is discriminating.
They are driven by hot urges,
primitive, Unclean,
Ever wanting to fill in the gaps.
The holes.

So many holes that
Excrete and welcome impurities.
I'm detoxed.
I'm allergic to their ways.
It's only time before i'm raped.

Soiled and human i become one of them.