doves fly out from under my tarry skin
tearing out globules of thick black ooze
***** birds, symbols of purity hope and harmony
when did I let them in?

I write this poem and

light breaks over my natty head
stimulation of every cell that turns yearns
bleeds
revival of the circle
my stem in awakening
becomes malleable and un-ordinary
no longer shall i sit
stagnant

My being reaches solar flares for your psyche
we flimsy beings only want a soft touch
the heat of proximity whence our bones collide
it is only a passing glancing of the skin
yet my cheeks
redden.
Touch is but one more way we become one