You re lukewarm filth Like a sweaty shirt that never gets washed Like the damp bottom of a forgotten Tupperware Like the faint whimper of someone who no longer believes they deserve pleasure A dead emotion A failed attempt that never even made it to threat level And still you show up You pay You convince yourself this visual offering is for you I don t even bother kicking you I skip you I erase you Because things that sad don t even deserve punishment