On a wistful day

It sometimes feels this way.

I am almost never out of body.

Have been inside it for some funny years.

Marveling at its daily dramas even to this day,

How it painfully strives to appease my fancies,

Without guile-

A dignified image of itself

And some fierce resilience.

Shamed by my skin-deep ways,

I barely look it straight in its ample eye.

I fear my bareness,

As I peel off all burdens

And set my flesh on fire.