SKIN

SKIN

I.

"Rip it off."

A mother tells a child

"If it itches, scratch it."

"If its ugly, replace it."

The end of skin.

II.

Love at first sight is reserved for the Bones.

III.

The irritations of the skin have become unbearable. My arms are bare. I want my skin to be the skin of another. Our hidden hides.

Author's Note

This poem is really about the interaction between people, and how we only see people topically. We see their skin, but the bones are what we are and that is so much more important. You cannot be who you aren't, to do that is absolute blasphemy of the self.