Lonely Reflections

By Dillon Jackson

I like my skin. It is delicate and smooth. It quivers, warm to the touch. It is tan, but not dark, and it fits me very well. The skin around my face carries pimples, some big. Others, small. Soft freckles line the skin covering my cheeks, they match my brown hair well. Tiny stretch marks scar the skin around my belly. It is the only part that does not fit so well, but maybe I like it more because of that. My skin does not sag around my knees like some people’s do. Sometimes I play with it, see how far it will stretch before it tears. My skin does not come back together the same way other people’s skin does. My skin feels like home. I wear my skin very well. Sometimes I wonder what my skin says about me when I am not looking. Do I have talkative skin? Or is it shy? I think my skin might love me. It clings to me. Hugs me. Forever?

People like my skin. They tell me it is shiny and nice. Beautiful skin. Fresh. I am glad they see what I see. They complement my freckles. They complement my body. My skin looks so nice. Why would they not notice? Sometimes they want my skin. I would let them borrow it if they would ask. They laugh when I offer. Some people touch my skin without asking. I do not like that. They should not touch my skin. It is mine. Other people recognize me as their friend. I like laughing with them. We talk for days. They talk. They stare. Then, the look. They always leave me. I never see them again. Maybe they are jealous of my rotting skin. They want it for themselves. I do not blame them. I like my skin.

Sometimes I let strangers play with my skin. They pull it. They push it. They stick things in it and laugh. I laugh with them sometimes, but they stop laughing when I do. Some strangers want to draw on my skin with a funny vibrating pencil. Pictures flow across the skin covering my arms and legs. Sometimes my skin already has pictures on it. Strangers stop and stare at them, they like the flesh pictures as much as I do. They ask me where I got them. I cannot always tell. I like asking them to touch my skin. It is mine, after all. Sometimes they like touching my skin too. I try to play with them. They like playing so much, water falls out of their eyes. That water tastes good. Makes me want to play with them more. They get tired. They break. I like my flesh.

My skin does not fit me well. It sags on my face and around my knees. Little white wrigglies dance on my back. My friends cannot see my writhing piggy backers, and I do not want them to. I used to like my nails. They are black, but I wish they had stayed pink. My skin is blue in some places and cool to the touch. Strangers do not want to touch my rotting skin anymore. They look at me, but their eyes do their best to avoid me. They do not want to play with my skin. I play with it for them. It rips more easily now. Yellow liquid leaks from my pores. My skin feels itchy and shriveled disgusting. Sometimes I try to smile at strangers you passing by. They quickly look away. I do not blame them. My skin has holes in it. Some are big, some are small. I try to stitch them closed with a needle and some thread. I am not very good at sewing. I hide my skin. I had pretty skin. Beautiful. Skin. I miss how alive my skin was. It is only a yellow, grey mess hanging from my body now. Not like your skin your luscious delicious flesh

I like your skin. I bet it is warm to the touch. Like mine was. You cover up your skin. Hide it from me. From the world. I wish you would take off your grey hoodie. Lose your blue jeans, discard those things hiding your skin from my hungry eyes. You sip coffee. Stare around the shop. You do not see me, none of you do when I am like this. ROTTEN. The flesh between us glistens, but not like yours. Your skin is special. It belongs to you, but you do not take care of it like I could. You cannot wear it like I would. Do you let friends play with your skin? Do you maybe let them rip it stick needles in it laugh like my friends do- This shop is too bright. This will never do. I want you to be alone with me so we can play without meaningless flesh getting in the way. We could be friends. Good friends. Share your skin. You just have to promise me you will not break like my other friends. They always break before we have finished playing. I can play for hours. He is looking at me staring at me big blue eyes so pretty staring straight at me sees me- Where are you going?

You hurry out onto the street without paying. That was not very nice of you. Why are you running from me? OH! You want to play tag. I like tag. It is the only game my friends like to play, but I always win. Not that way, Blue Eyes. The alley is dark and imposing. You stumble over a few bags of garbage. Clumsy Blue Eyes. Tasty Blue Eyes- I like how slow you are. You are just letting me admire the artwork surrounding us. Children with small cans worked very hard to create this moment for us, Blue Eyes. You try to climb the rusted metal fence away from me. You climb as slowly as you run, and I have become bored with this game. I pick you up, no thanks to you. You are so limp and messy, I only shook you a little. Not done playing too soon too soon wanna play more

I like my scalpel. It fits my hand well, even when my skin falls off. Your skin does not fall off, does it? Why does your skin not age like mine does? I never see wrigglies in your skin. Your skin is smooth and delicate. Do you ask people to touch your skin? I miss feeling people touch my skin. I wish they would draw on my skin again. I want to play a game with you. Pictionary! I love when people draw on my skin, I bet you like it too. I want you to guess this picture, okay?

Ready? Red red messy making my picture hard to see- Finished! What do you see?

Silly Blue Eyes! It is not “help”, it is a puppy! Cute puppy. Tasty- I
cannot believe you did not know what that was. You own a puppy. I saw him in
your backyard. He was brown with small white spots. Excited. You were so sad
when he went missing. But you got a new puppy. A new white puppy with brown spots. You replaced your friend. That is not very nice, is it? Your
friends tried to help you. They played with you in your backyard after it
happened. You all drank out of those silly little red cups that made you all
clumsy. Clumsy clumsy clumsy.

Are you ready for another picture? cuts glides through skin red ribbons dance all over- Finished! What is it?

Awww Blue Eyes, you are terrible at this. It is not “why are you doing this” it is a car! Your car. Driving is hard, I do not know how you do it so well or so often. I want to drive the blue car. Fancy blue car. You drive all your friends around. You are the life of the party at the bars you go to. I wish people looked at me the way they look at you when you talk. The way they crowd around you, hoping you will notice. Hoping you will let them join your conversation. They love you Blue Eyes. Maybe I do too- I bet it is because of your skin. I bet they stare at your skin. Admire it. Your skin. Do you like your skin? Yours? Mine. You are messy now. You make my room red. Too loud SHUT UP

You let me play with your skin. Push it. Pull it. Sometimes it rips. I am sorry. No wasting skin like yours. I asked you if I could have it. Just let me borrow it. Why can’t I have your skin. it is nice skin full and luscious flesh just give it to me give me your skin i want it i will take care of it i want your skin

I am sorry. I get lost sometimes. I cannot take my skin off without ripping it anymore. It is soggy and grey. It wants to slide off of me even when I use needles to hold it. Your skin peels off so easily. All one piece. It does not fit you like it fits me. Water falls out of your eyes. Just like my old toys. It still tastes good. I wish you would be quiet. I sing to drown you out. You do not like my songs. Why? I wrote them just for you. Other toys get sleepy when I sing. They drift away to my lullabies while we play. Not you. You try your hardest to break my leather bracelets. Why? I would not break your bracelets. You are hurting my feelings. You just get louder. I hate loud noises hate them stop it STOP IT-

I like my skin. It is luscious and smooth, warm to the touch. I want friends to draw on my skin. Make me pretty again. It may not be tan, but it fits me well. your friends like my skin

they are just like you

broken