Awkward to the Max

Around
U.G.
we
feel
uncomfortable
inside
our
skin
we're
like
stone
monuments
to
ourselves
so
unnatural
rigid
tense
unyielding
our
smiles
hang
in
space
held
on
by
wooden
heads
long
tubes
of
empty
heaviness
protecting
what?
We
see
him
so
heavenly
alive
flowing
spontaneous
filled
with
quiet
fire
burning
the
edges
of
our
hearts.
What
can
we
do
but
relax?