please ignore the rot

it sticks to my insides
like glue, gunk, gum:
my filth, my spoilage,
his righteous cum.

the debris of my purity,
unprotected and exposed,
decays into a brackish sludge,
wilts like a rotting rose.

i swim in rivers of perfume
to drive the stink away—
the stench of necrotic flesh,
the scent of fallen prey.

the rot will rock-harden my veins
if outsiders bear witness.
those vultures will pick at my flesh,
gawking at my sickness.

so like a compliant working dog—
trained to stay, to serve, to please—
there is a warning on my leash,
yielding yellow: please ignore me.