This hide has weathered much,
but still warms under tender touch.
Don’t spit no more your poison my way.
These lips may appear silent,
but they ain’t afraid to say what needs saying, violent.
Fixed, not forgotten.
Listen and speak, don’t hide.
Secrets are poison, and what I say with my body, is for me to decide.
dust. for. the. dancers 
word baby word, new shit