While I wasn't looking a blister sprouted on my right big toe
Thick with pus like murky water, turgid
On the ridge of the joint, stiff with skin and hair
I took a needle to the blister, lanced it
Watched the ichor spill into the ridges and down the side
Clear of filth the wound stared back into my eyes
A sickly white flesh revealed beneath
Rotten like a fish left out beneath a Southern sun
Lacking the taut blister skin to hold the rot together
Slowly the pit spread back from itself and split
Down to the bone holding the blasted thing together
Stretching slowly to the bottom of my toe
Until its sweet putrescence rest in two
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