In a clapboard boarding house I lie
And I am half-organic;
Several days ago, a new friend
Smiled. I watched his unscarred hands extend
An invitation cordial;
A half-hour, and I knew the panic
Tasted on the air potential *****,
Eyeballs rolling from the ordeal.

Now I feel a man primordial
A human made to mould.
A person finds there’s constance in decay
When all their friends are cold.