there are nights when your brain is static
And the only words you can mutter are self pitying
And human connection feels lost
The station of your words is weak
And you want to curl up and become antic like the records you love so much
Like the typewriter you value for print
But can no longer use
Until you collect dust in your lungs
Until your ribs are rusted
Until you are fossil fuel
Until you become recycled paper
In someone's printer

Why is everybody naked?
Not out of self-love, alone and in awe.
Not with a partner wit whom you entrust your life.
Not to make a midnight snack in a heatwave.

But. For entertainment.

A science show with naked hosts, not very educational?
To advertise clothing or cars, as if we're still neanderthals.
Our nakedness is owned by everybody else.
So many hands in the ***, we don't know 'how' to be naked.

If you want to be an oak,
think like an oak,
not like an acorn.