skin

Skin, a thought.

you are altogether other,
you will not do, but to be you

i've tried on another skin
too slippery, oily, to be in
it slithered, it slack, it slumped
and i gave it back and humped on after another
i found it chaffed
i licked, it molted
but i kept it,
it sprouted
i wrapt it as one does
it grew cankerous and then some fuzz

a stray dog
with too many teeth
and not enough ribs
slobbered and chomped my chaffing skin
and ripped me clean

naked i protested
i set up a committee
and i, er, WE agreed
there must be a skin that could not be knocked or bleed
could be slick and sweet,
with large feet and probing eyes,
made for probing and batting lies
with lips to lock
and chest of barrels
and fists for querrils
and a set jaw for Gerils...

but the Dog came back
and broke up our agenda
bloodied our ears
embodied our fears
till we saw the mutt
drew us in and out
not willing to sit past

boney and bloodied
we walked on owned toes
wiping owned nose
dressing wounds with reality
holding bruises with clarity
(and by we, i mean me)

and we found, feckless and fearful
the sun did not burn us
the gazers did not haunt us
our own, did not roll us out with the empty bottles
we walked in skin
and owned the ones
we found ourselves in