Without skin

More often than not, the meanest people are afraid of nothing more than the simple truth

It is always that truth that scares us the most

Like if everyone could see on the outside how I thought and what I felt on the inside

What would they think of me

That I am horrible

Judgemental

Evil

Scary

A bitch

And really

I mean if we really get down to it

Mean

In meditation I saw all my skin peeled back from my body

And there were all the defects

All the things that I could finally see wrong

And I had never seen them before

They were ugly

I couldn’t believe it was me

I had a big knife with me and I went about the business of trying hard to cut out the bad parts

To slice them out and throw them away

To feed them like meat to a hungry cat or monitor

But I didn’t wanna poison them

Then I remembered the one lady who sat on the curb and tried to slice her arm off with a meat cleaver

She knew with all her heart that that was where the problem was because her arm was the entrance to the disease

She forgot that it was really the thing that told her to make the entrance in her arm that was the real problem

I can’t cut my brain out

Though I would much love to sometimes

It used to be fun and exciting, but not anymore

Now it is only Not fun and death warranting

Even though I think I could sew my skin back together behind my ears and I think I could do it so well that no one would ever notice that I had removed a few parts of my brain

I just couldn’t do it

You see, im the problem

I always have been the problem

And now I know

And I’m all outta rabbits

No more rabbits in this magicians hat

So now I have to do the work

The work I never did before and do it harder than I ever imagined

Because I’ve gotta get better

I can’t be the “such unfortunate, that is not at fault, because I seem to have been born that way”

Because I am at fault

I accept

I surrender