Food

She that leaf in the gutter rotting into mulch, dooks, the one with the edges curling towards the heavens in a pointless bid for life, with the slug smearing its trail across it while it feasts on the putrid little remains it can find, the reek of Nature reversed filling its nostrils while it gags on its feast, all the while you being trampled underfoot by the rank public with their dog-shit encrusted soles, adding to your woes and general pong of decay?

That’s you, that is.

hahaha. i genuinely wondered where you going with that...

then i lol'd

probably right bobbo. "the elephant's foot" my aussie mates call it. rank.