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.