Your skin
paper thin
peels away
when I touch
like a brush
there is sludge
pooled underneath
the residue
of thinking through
the theories
of deities
and karma
arising
from leaving me
alone in peace
to slowly rot
eyes turned inwards
collapsing
egg
rosebud
samsara
beats
like a drum
the unending thrum
of human hearts
and the earth
resonating
repeating
growing restless.