skin.

every day, my skin was a little tighter. i tried smoking to loosen it, but that just made it itch, and it itched more as it tightened more, so i tried to scratch it off, but it was too strong, too thick, it resisted my nails like glass resists pennies. so i went into the bathroom and grabbed my razor and i smashed the razor against the floor until the plastic separated from the blades, and i took one of the blades and began to cut. i cut a little square of skin from my thigh, and when i looked underneath, it wasn't red like you'd think, it was cream colored, because the blood fled as soon as it was freed. i looked closely and realized that it was fat that i was seeing. i kept cutting, cut away the skin from my legs and my arms and my chest and throat, and it was difficult getting at the back of my neck, but i managed, and the air conditioning was cool against my exposed flesh. i kept cutting until my entire body was free. scraps of skin sat in a large pile beside me, oozing, flattening, cooling and congealing as the minutes passed. i stood up and went to the mirror to inspect the new body i'd created. i was fat and stringy muscle now. in a few places, i saw bones and organs peeking through. i smiled and saw the truth of smiling. under the skin, smiling is pure beauty: it is contraction, the synthesis of hundreds of thousands of muscle fibers around the mouth and the eyes and reaching toward the ears and pulling tight over the chin. i frowned, and under the skin, frowning is even more beautiful than smiling. the muscles of the entire face move and shift and contort with the pressure and madness of the world. i cried at the brilliance of it and the salt stung my freed flesh in little acid streams. and i walked out into the world, and the world looked away.