but rather one of intimacy.
what drives us from our love and casts
us deep into the sea.
with days and hopes and dreams all shattered,
we sit alone, unclothed; ashamed, embarassed.
desire made distraught and dreams feeding down
to concrete tributaries that dont quench the ground.
for all your love the world was made,
and yet this place is all but dust.
the rise, the swell, the simple fall
exposure lain against the wall.
and with your faded skin you'll taste
the way the world can be beautiful.
the way the world is filled with rust,
decay, skin to slate and stone to bust.
and all the worlds you hope to travel
are the places passed a thousand times before.
by blood and bone and hate and callous
by civilization wanting more.
and now you stand unashamed unembarassed,
unbridled but confused not free.
there is not truth to just undressing
when the winds around can't taste of you.