Saturday, February 19, 2011


I see you.
Standing there with your back pressed firmly against the wall,
With nowhere to turn.
But even if you could, you’d rather stand there and burn.
To let the kerosene soak through your shoe soles,
Shriveling your toes.
It hurts you more if no one knows,
Or sees,
I must watch you until your skins begins to bubble and bleed.
Until that time, no matter how trapped, you won’t be free.
Until I give you the gift of transparency.

I must see through you, all planes and sides of your inner core,
Pimping yourself to me like a low-paid whore,
Hoping that if I see your suffering and how you melt,
I’ll rescind any pain and agony that you may have felt.
You need for me to care, to hear the beginning, middle and end,
To extinguish the burn, and be the one to mend
All your wounds.

Listen, I’m not God. So why do you act as if I am?
I’m human flesh and blood, also in search of being a transparent man.
As well, I need for you to see me,
Begging, pleading, resolutely needing,

February 19, 2011