no secrets in creation


it's all on show for everyone

every act a fuckin' worm track

wide as a plumper's hips


and it's evident to all

but those in flesh with you

they're like you


thinking you're pulling a fast one


but slip out of this body's identity

and you'll see how obvious your acts

and all your excuses

show as nakedly as if you stepped out of an orgy

your guilt registered on your face

and in your movements only without the excuses...



Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.