Sliced from forehead to toe-tip
i am the naked
revealed.
what is seen cannot be reversed,
for all your scarves and blindfolds.
And I fear, sir,
That you have seen my soul.
In crowed rooms you hunted me,
singled out my tattered being for your prey.
I prayed like the mantis
to a mythical power for salvation,
but your eyes, relentless as your hands,
made me beneath you and before you,
to come undone.
If smite i could,
trust this; I would.
you are no kind soul
looking to help the weary traveler.
you are, as ever,
the vulture in disguise.
I am coming to believe
there exists nothing else.
I am only of worth
as long as i am of use.
And lately i only feel useless.