The bland taste in her mouth found her sour life.

Soul!  Dee soul! Overwritten!

Baldness is the light in the air.

Half full, half empty.

The touch is wired like an old mans burnt gray hair.

The smell is burnt crisp.

Soul!  Dee soul! Overwritten!

Cellulite in within hers skin,

Tightened, over-exposed, impacted,

The touch is curd like, 

The smell is like fish left out for monthS-raunchy!-raunchy!-raunchy!

Soul!  Dee soul! Overwritten!

Fungus is overflowing with green expelling around her aura,

The touch is slimy like putting your hand in a jar of red jelly,

The smell is like walking past a disposal dump-DELIGHTFUL!

Soul!  Dee soul! Overwritten!