There is so much clothed nudity on display,
And I don’t buy the bare balls and raw parts for a second.
Because it is all so cold and hard when we know that naked bodies are warm and full of boiling sloshing blood.
It’s all just another façade,
Another motley mask,
And too many attempts at enigma.
The most nude nakedness happens away from publicly-hanged words,
Away from like-chatter-comment-validate.
It happens behind closed doors,
Between bared souls.
But fear showed through the heaviest of nude cloaks when moonlight glints off of arses bolting into the deep dark wood.
I had shed my skin on the hard wood floor of that drafty cabin, and it was blistering cold in that doorway that night.
Luckily, to rediscover warmth and save myself from hypothermia,
I just had to shut the door, and let the fearful keep running;
Now I set ravenous forest fires under my epidermal sheath
And laugh hysterically at all the burns and scars that bubble up to my surfaces.
*** Well, Girlie, you aren’t an easy person to be easy with. Not everyone can stomach watching a person commit harakiri on their door step. ***
*** I am embracing nudity and occasional cold fronts… but I have a growing bonfire in my centre that warms me from the inside out. ***