letra de desuetude - bosse-de-nage
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i leave this old thing here on the ground to decay in the sun’s light
it was a part of me, but it has its own atmosphere now
it is useless to me. i walk away
why doesn’t it disappear? where does its disgusting smell come from?
the stench follows me: on sidewalks, in courtyards, to a bench in the park
i return the next day. i see people walk on it and drive their cars past it. dogs stop to p-ss on it. n-body appears to notice it reflecting them, no one smells it, no one sees me watching it
now old and fetid, but liberated and perpetual; it was a part of me
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