Under His Skin

October 30, 2010
From the torso down with feet below his knees, he carries himself places.
He holds wind at the nape of his neck and carries a knife in the back of his mind.
He carries a distinctive walk and smile. He carries magic in his pocket, love on his arms, and Vans on his feet. He laughs a welcoming laugh and holds a pen in his left hand.
He hides knowledge and words of wisdom, he unlocks them for the ones he loves. He carries strangeness and other worlds. He carries storms that build from the base of his spine. The knife in his mind has replaced the magic in his pocket.
He carries muscles hidden from plain sight. He carries a kiss at the corner of his lips, and he carries silence between his teeth. He hides elegance beneath his shirt. He carries innocence and purity in his soul. He carries dirty thoughts.
He carries truth and fascination, and an incomplete understanding of what it means to be human. You can see it in his deep blue eyes. He carries a dance on the back of his hands and he carries music in his veins. He carries reflexes, joints, bones, and logic. He hosts the last dance at midnight as he lets a stranger in around his waist. He hides built up stress and irritation in his back pocket and a Blackberry Storm 2 in the other.
When he is disgruntled he walks in patterns instead of throwing lamp. He has a fire that hasn’t been lit, he crosses burning bridges, and he carries the weight of the world with a little help from those Vans on his feet.





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