You want to know soul?

Tell me, where is your kitchen? Take me there, child. And take a listen.

Are you strong, sweet one? Can you take up all those dishes?

Good, then. We can’t have a single one missing.

Now, break that fine glass there in the road while I steal your shoes.

Take your eyes into my hands and let me lead you

‘til the China and street has tenderized your foolish meat.

Step easy, dearest. And don’t cry.

This is soul. Painful. Awful. A bloody feat.

It’s not for the masses. Or the weak.

No, honey, I gave it up long ago.

You simple flower. And those lavender eyelids.

Too quickly overgrown in thorn.