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In the Nude

It’s not easy to know so much about yourself. It gets rather impossible to lie yourself to sleep, and you end up laying in an unmade bed facing a ceiling but unable to face yourself.

You somehow manage to tread softly leaving little traces of your conflicted presence behind. The less visible you are to the world the more real you feel. And your version of  reality outweighs and overwhelms anything offered on the outside. So you trace your index finger over somebody else’s skin and you step out of yours because that is what love is for you.

Bare and undisguised, raw and dangerous, you are rarely overlooked. Your hunger for shedding skin keeps you locked in the nude. And the vicious circle continues…

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