I feel the grass between my toes,
Beneath my feet.
I feel the air flow,
Through my lungs.
Into my soul.
I smell the sweet,
Calming scent of nature.

I am made of dirt and water.
I am no different from the grass.
We may try to seem,
Sophisticated,
Superior,
But we are nothing,
Without this earth.

So I stand on the grass.
And I feel comforted.
I feel at home.

You stand there and laugh
At your pedestal  
As if you’re better than me
But are you?

We both come from dirt
And will be dirt.

there is poverty
in the
smell of ***.

a hidden guilt: shame.

***** towels
10 rupee soap.

tissues in the trashcan.

we cannot afford
the sterilization
of intimacy.

cannot clean nor claim our space.
roam room to room;
poverty to poverty.

carrying our stench
and shame.

Me?
Oh, I'm nothing
I wouldn't even say as nothing as a rock, as a spec of dust, as a worm, as an atom
Because that's still something

But you
You, you, you, you, you
You asked me to tell you something about myself
You who is more than something in my eyes

You are something amazing, gorgeous, bright, exhilarating, lovely, astonishing

You gave me something by asking
Something by looking
By touching
By hearing
By-
By God, by something!
Something!

I'm nothing, but you asked, so I must be something

Does it feel like nothing?
The underdog from cream of the crop
To the basis of the loser
Open your eyes
The crops will grow and sell
Under the dog is the dirt
The foundation
The giver
Prop the desired in essence
And give life to life of desirability
The source of what we want
Is the loss we give no credit