in a world where men's hands are like blades to be weaponized when they chose and their smiles are always creeping and lips are laced with venom always carrying a weapon in their jeans that they will use against you willingly
you have to keep your eyes open and stay aware and awake or else you will fall victim to their false niceties and live in fear of men and the dark
your love of touch that was once a beautiful and comforting thing will make you sick
I smell your existence, sometimes in the souls of leaves rising from an invisible fire started and kept alive by a neighbor, assigned by ritual to keep a few square meters of the world tidy, I hear you in the warbler in the shedding tree near my window.
I see your thinking as I wallow in the Saturday calm of frozen trees, there are no children in the park, 'Udtong Daco', your sun claims the midpoint of the day as unhealthy, makes the swing seats and slides untouchable, keeps people indoors for the sake of sanity.