Exposure

If I could grow up the child in you I would find in it my freedom returned To trust the innocense in you If I could teach you words There would be a place of escape for us From all the frenzy of your pain If you knew the language that exposed my soul Vaulted deeply away from eyes For there are those with vulgar needs Whose eyes digest syllables in a vulgar way These have their souls condensed into desires And hear me speak but cannot tell What hell I mean and what heaven they miss. ii It is good to have a mind confirmed For I Need a space apart from savage settings To practice the enlightenment of my art I need to tremble bodies like a canvas On wide legged easel perched I need to lick skin with my wet brush Of words and see the blush of paint Dance like fire in the eyes For I I am only censored by the jealous ritual Of meanings Where my words sag like condoms That carry the prize of ovaries in shame I laugh at treachery's game too Self ejaculating hate The canvas is a private world With room only for the painter's fate My tree is growing on a ledge of rock.