Dirty (written April 23, 2020)

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You say dirt will make me unclean
Infect my lungs until they harden my last inhale
You tell me to scrub, disinfect, and bleach
Kill everything on the surface of my cold and vulnerable dermis
Kill everything!
Just to resolve the infestation of thought
The paranoia of this quarantine
Because we are such pitifully fragile beings, right?
One wrong move, one wrong breeze
You'll be acquainted with the plight of your own mortality

I just can't seem to keep myself clean
I cleanse away germs and bacteria and virus and all those evil little things that I cannot see

Still I cannot clean up the gutter of my consciousness
The manhole of my mind
The sewage of my stirring thoughts
You tell me I'm dirty
Still I dig my toes into unearthen soil
Just to feel one with the worms again
Returning me whence I came
Apparently
To the bowels of the bacteria filled hell which created me
From dust to dust
My unclean self must
Trust in the process
Of this chaos.

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