flesh feels like bone
blue chills and white cloth

fabric of winter

shaven clean
until old scars show
on the surface
and bleed anew
along with cuts made fresh

smooth blades of aloe
soothe the lines marked by time

focus sharpened
across each hour
spent in hibernation

eyes of the chin and cheeks
naked and open
seek the sun

sweet kisses of shadow

weep gently
from the sting
of lashing winds
as the veil between
suffering and joy
is lifted

blind skin
married to visions
birthed by the source
at an altar of light

sacrificial spirits

sing ancient hymns
with the ghosts of love
at the sight
of a grave

thank God
we never dug
too deep

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at 17numa@gmail.com. You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.