I can live with myself, with all of my flaws

Holes in my skin, these curtainless windows

for voyeurists’ eyes.

 

Comfy is my skin, with my life in a vacuum

Shameless to admit I might be a lie.

 

With everyone naked, altruism is to blame

and Darwin’s finger becomes a pointer

Elephants evolve in living rooms.

 

Comfy in my skin, but that’s the catch

It’s your gavel hand that I don’t trust.

 

Normalcy is numbers, and which is to blame

for the paradox of these floorboards

Elephants are divine.