In Touch

I’m in touch with the warm blood coursing its way through my veins, to every screaming part of my body, I’m in touch with the secret other, frequency muse in the airwaves, prompting the stroke of my pen.

I can read that look in your eye, making its way from your head, telling me things that your mind would never say.

I’m in touch with tones in your voice, making their way from your throat, revealing a different meaning than your words intended.

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