Excruciating, this exfoliation,

this blistering in the heat

of battle.

Defenceless,

skin peels,

flayed offal,

diseased dandruff

powdering slumped

shoulders.

Let it go.

Let it

fall

kissed

by

gravity,

one with

the grave. For

unless dead skin cells

are scrubbed off –

loofah of life –

regeneration

cannot build life,

caress fresh complexion

with rosebuds.

This is but the

paring,

the shucking of

detritus. Your real and true

lie

underneath…