An organ in our heads
Making sense of the sounds and objects, smells and taste
Naming them, recognizing them
Fitting them into the idea of what we call living
Our own perceptions twisting what we see
Into an abstract map of what we decide life is

And all seek a good living
Dreaming of, obsessing, yearning for what they don’t have
Naming hollow objects as meaning
Then falling out of a foundation that was fleeting

When all is gone, said and done
All that’s left is your nervous breath,
Beating and breathing life into a nonexistent, empty room
Your bare naked body exposed, completely void of disguises
Every lie, trick, mask is on a platter
Being held with desperation of forgiveness by those sweaty, trembling hands
Feet cold, on the stone floor

Your body seen by the eyes of evaluation,
Everything that you ever were,
All wickedness, corruption, love and gratitude
In one naked body
And the breath changes with termination or rejuvenation
When the decision has been made.