How do you separate the savory from the rotten and the sour from the sweet?

Going through the days, I’ve gotten lost in obscene thoughts and nooks and crannies of my mind.

Maybe tomorrow or yesterday, I can find the answers I’m looking for.

While life goes by I ponder a time where I realize that I am no longer the milk.

And as I wander I start to wonder and realize I have never been the milk.

Milk gets sour and can be thrown out while the carton can live another day, refilled and reused another way. 

I am the carton. 

I am a shell.

Don’t rid of me even if my insides start to smell.

I can be new and I can be whole, or so I’ve been told.

This truth I am sold.