What do the blind see I suppose, circles of their iris spin Just by looking, they're inside. They see flesh, empty flesh. What do the deaf hear I suppose, music At least an echo A touch. Of words. They hear a word, of their voice I suppose. They hear the flesh. They hear words, like skin caressing skin. I too, hear my voice like a string. Like a circle saying, 'Fill me' Let me fill you so I can be someone else in you. Take me away from my body. I suppose, sinning with God.