No heart involved
It is the skin
It is the thick and the tender
That the blind won’t abide
That the visionary won’t avoid 
The rough and the soft
The sweat, the tears, the blood
Which ought run free
Which prove the day-in and day-out
To beautify that veneer
To strengthen the hearts involved 


Soaked in and wrung out as the Sun at day’s end

With only the scorched skin to show

Hands up and head back, to laugh is the key 

At best and at worst, I am faced to know 




If our souls don’t ask for our skin to touch
Then we won’t get
Where we need to be
If our arms aren’t soft while our will stays strong
Then we won’t claim
Our identity

29 inches high

Do not forsake my skin there

And fail to suffer my intellect here

Share with me the musings of men’s minds

The notions that so keenly captivate their thoughts 

Yet never escape their lips 

Except to hide behind polite banter, as if I cannot sense 

Something’s just not-quite-right

If idealists and purists we be, I count on you

Set the truth free