Empire Of The Senseless

Don’t deny yourself the comfort of my skin. Don’t forget what I taste of. Rain? Was that the scent? It keeps slipping away. Remind me, before I forget. Who am I to you? Am I a separate thing? Can you feel me in everything living? Because this is where I always find you. You seep in-between my toes from the earth below, in the morning dew. When I yawn you’re sliding down my throat. When I spit you hang off of my lips. My every word is guarded; a massive army of natural born intelligence, there was nothing to learn but my nakedness. Who convinced you to abandon such astonishment and joy? When you let months go by without caressing your skin, what is it that you miss the most? Where is the gratitude for the life I have bestowed upon you? This body. These bones. This canvas: the projection of the senses. Tell me baby, what have you created in the absence of my living presence? Do you reject that nothing does the disappearance justice? Do you neglect to remember? In case you might compare, you could risk your plea