The disease after….

I was walking around
The shape of me black
It would fly back 
To where it belongs 
The, past of the end of this world
When I threw away my waste in the trashcan 
He was feeling the heaven of and would stand like “the man” 
What kind of man flirts while leaning on a trashcan containing my waste? 
What do we call this form of taste? 

Slowly you will lose your smell 
Lose your taste 
Lose your mind 
And then become everything you wished you wanted to become 
The movies made them believe being a criminal is the thing
So they kill 
And have sex 
Endlessly 
I know the psychopath perfectly 

Nadiya