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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem