Skin – Yours feels good on me

Be forewarned: This is a creative application of an analogy
“The finest clothing made is a person’s own skin, but, of course, society demands something more than this.”  – Mark Twain
 
“It’s a sad man my friend who’s livin’ in his own skin and can’t stand the company.”                             – Bruce Springsteen

 

ad libitum

Pulling out my favorite skin, one of the many I’ve gathered over the course of years, I pushed one foot through, then pulling it over my head, stood up and turned around. There, now I’m complete. I looked in the mirror, this skin is tight, it doesn’t quite fit. “After all my hunting to find the perfect fit, damn.” These things change you know, in the night while your sleeping, they shrink and grow taking on their own wild destiny. It’s hard to pull out the men, the women, from their skins. I yank and tug, making little cuts to release the flesh, loving when it just falls off, but that usually meant someone else had the same idea, using it to hide, or rather, to enhance their look. My collection is extensive and ever changing. I pulled some off of religious fanatics, some from thugs, some from pretty boy hair bands. I yanked a couple off some bikers and even a lawyer couldn’t escape my scheming thievery. All skin is beautiful by virtue of hiding mine. I sit looking in the mirror at my latest acquisition. I sure look good in it, wish I could move though, it always rips when I go outside. No worries though, I’ll keep yanking and saving them and perhaps sew them together. I’ll find one that fits and works eventually. I wish they wouldn’t leave marks on me, it blows my cover when you see pieces that obviously don’t fit on me. I’ll make excuses and hold it on while I scurry to pull another skin over the unfinished parts of me.

Also Published in: Wingposse Magazine, April 2013

12202012 

My Discordant Song

“Opposition brings concord. Out of discord comes the fairest harmony.”  Heraclitus
 

I am the sum of my defects, to lay them down is to die. Changing me by forcing me to get help is forcing me to becomesomeone else. You think you can help me, or should help me. Is my deficit that annoying? Will “fixing” me make you feel better? Realize that by fixing me, your tearing me apart. I know I’m sick, I’m ill, I’m addicted. I binge, purge, use, fixate, cut, obsess, worry, and rage. I listen to voices telling me you want to change me, to make me better. Really? I don’t see the life you live as better. I see that your scared to let your weaknesses show, to claim them as your own, to know and show that they are a part of you, like every part that is acceptable and healthy. I own my diseases, they are unique, changing and evolving. Predicting my behavior is impossible, unless you give me pills that make me think like you. Or give me programs teaching me to act proper. Or follow me around pushing away the naughty deprecating things that chase me. Let me off your leash of altruism and guilt induced change. My faults, I make them work for me. They become a unique discordant song that never ends. Listen to the off-key and dragging notes, they are a symphony. Dance to my music. Youll never be bored and perhaps youll forget about trying to change me.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn youre there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you Id be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you wont listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.

My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn youre there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you Id be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you wont listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.