Touch

I am so in touch with touch, deceit cannot touch me. All I see is photoshopped. You won't slip much by me. I don't believe the things I hear. The truth is much maligned. I do not trust a single word, though thoughtfully refined. I have a taste for bitterness, for sweetness turns to grief. Just a hint of saccharine, kindles my disbelief. I know that I can smell a lie. Perfume cannot fool me. And if it stinks, it stinks I think. I think you must agree. I do not hold with second sight. I won't stand for pretense. Only things that I can touch, to me, make any sense.