skin deep

in the shower today, i held some of that

thick scrubby gel for scraping off all that

ugly dead skin of mine.

and i simply sat down in the thick roiling

steam, and i sloughed at myself, vanishing

in layers.

and i pumped at the cream and i scrubbed

at myself and watched the million little bits

of me drown.

i scrubbed at the thighs that would not change

and the stomach--protruding, like a melon

and face. my face.

i kept scrubbing until my skin was china-smooth

and i had morphed into someone worth being

until the gel was gone.

but though i was buffed and polished and i shone

i was not the one in that body. i was the million little

sloughed-off ugly

unworthy

bits of me

whirling

down the drain.

my last sight, effort in appearance

my last breath, lilac and steam.

Author's Note

me again.

Reviews

[spence]

This is a very well expressed take on what may generally be regarded as 'teenage angst', but these manifestations of self-loathing are things that i believe never leave the mind of those subjected to the media imagery that claims to describe and offer 'perfection'.
Reading things like this makes me feel sad in that people, especially young people, can end up feeling so utterly worthless because of the BS standards set by others- usually in the hope of conning people into paying to be what they are told is desirable.
I know it's a terrible cliche, but true beauty does exist within and I am confident that you have plenty of assets, skills and aptitudes that make you as worthy as each and every one of us. You certainly are a talented writer and this poem describes much more about you than the literal and metaphorical musings you have shared with the reader. I think these words reveal a caring soul and a loving heart and most people will find these attributes at least as desirable as anything purely aesthetic- it is true that there are many shallow people who don't see deeper than the epidermis, but that pretty much sums up all they're gonna get from life- a wafer thin charade that will fade with age until they end up alone with their vanities.
For most of us aging becomes a blessing when the little nuances and idiosyncracies that we were once ashamed of become central to everything that makes us unique. Have faith Kira- I sense much beauty about you- and thank you for taking the time to read through my work, take care, spence

[J.M]

Sad but true - we are our faults, or what we perceive to be faults. But then again if everyone was perfect, as this poem shows, we'd all be blanks. Lovely poem with brilliant imagery and flare. You truly are a fantastic poet.