Skin

Sometimes my own skin feels so uncomfortable – unbearable. I am covered in it. I can’t stand to sit in it. I can’t stand to wade through life in this ill-fitting vessel.

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It has not equipped me with the proper accouterments to enjoy the spectrum of life. I am limited.

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I cannot fly above the water, nor live beneath it. Even though everything in my self tells me               I AM IT.

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Fluid motions roll through my mind, over my heart in deep currents that move me from one act to another, on the crest and ebb of feeling.

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We should be the same. I am separated, you see.

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Because all I want to do is become – a part of. I want these boundaries fluid; to melt into.

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I don’t just want to touch the world; a flat meeting of charges that push away from each other – no. I want to meld.

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Skin is a restriction – a harm when it finally gives, and then only the outside can reach in and you cannot reach out. I stretch and expect to stretch forever.                                                                                                               My skin shakes in restraint.

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There is a constant upset, a nausea, a tensing – I drift. My mind is so far away from this.

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I cannot stand these limitations.

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Aches to grow outward – seeking. It is dissipating and disappointed in the body’s inability to follow suit.

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What use.

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– Jaime Dyna La Mondain

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