skin

So,

you ever think about crawling out of you skin?

unzipping it from the back, and then peeling it all off like a hoodie you throw over the chair at the end of the day

THAT chair, the laundry chair, the chair that obscures the shadow figure every night

I want to crawl out of my skin,

to crawl out of Her and leave Her to rest

I want to leave my body and leave myself behind

to feel the release

the freedom of nothing

it’s an itch you’ll never be able to scratch

a deep discomfort—

stomach churning and

chest burning and

your limbs have no bones and your hands don’t exist

or, at least you aren’t the one controlling them—

these clumsy things

at the end of these

jello arms

which also appear to be attached…

whose hands are these?

who’s driving here??

you don’t know who it is—

if you’re out of your mind, out fishing, out to lunch

who is in control here?

who pulls these strings?

i want to get out of here, this body

this place, this time, this version of NOW

this version of the matrix

this version of skin

get me out of this thing