People.

People
People touching people,
Like smarties in a tube,
Helpless as candy.

People watching people,
Consciously or not,
Arousing themselves.

People hearing people,
Private conversations,
Not theirs to hear.

People groping people,
Or trying where they can,
Like a kick from champagne.

People judging people,
For flaking nailvarnish.
Or skin.

People idolising other people,
Celebs on posters,
Hell bent on looking holy.

But they are not holy,
Nor are the people,
Though no one really knows what holy means.

I am one of those people,
But now I’m learning, healing,
And it’s her hands doing it.