Notes for the Turmoil

Inspired by words (below) from the novel-
I Sniff Myself I Stink by Samir Agrawal

This is bizarre. Repellent is each object. I sniff myself I stink. All in here is but a societal run desire killing industry, a marsh pit. Sneak your path out or pave your way in; heaps of men endeavouring to stick their arses to fitting vacancies. There has to be money in other ventures, else what have I to do? Disgrace towards me is easily spilling from eyeballs all around and close. How inconvenient has it turned to put up on this life (un) supporting celestial mess. Why does death arrive only delayed?