Prose Poems by Cecilia

"Here I am as deep as an ocean..."

Here I am as deep as an ocean.  Experiences from 33 years of a full, full life and so much love and hate and everything in between to share.  And yet you choose to focus on the skin that appears in front of your face.   Afraid that if you get to know me you may find that this monster and you are more alike than you may care to admit.  And in your fear of feeling similar you emerge yourself a monster, ridiculing and separating nothing more than what you already know.  You and I are the same.  Same hopes and dreams.  Wishes of fulfillment, love and acceptance.  To know one's self is pride less.  I already know I am a monster and thus accept your words of fear and pity for the girl who is so pretty and so horrific at the same time.  It confuses only the shallow senses of commercial imprinting society has cursed you with. 

*****

Dead skin and blood

Dead skin all around me.  Blood dripping down my arm and splattering on my knee, drips down my thigh.  I scratch and scratch.  Knowing this so not normal yet completely familiar.  I look at those pretty girls with the skin so smooth and taut and I have conversations about random, non-important, somewhat amusing topics and I know the looks of horror that would appear on their faces if they knew that this morning I was sitting in my bathtub trying to soak and exfoliate enough to climb into my car and bend enough to pick something up, scratching, with dead skin all around me.  Blood dripping down my arm and splattering on my knee, drips down my thigh. and I talk to them with 3 or 4 Band-Aids strapped to my calf.  The Achilles ... going up.  No, I wont take them off 'till I get home.  I'll just scratch around them.  I pray: please let someone else not suffer, maybe two, because I am suffering enough for several people on this given day.  And while the tub fills up that evening and I rip the Band-Aids off, blood again pouring down the back of my lower legs, I think, another dead skin and bloody bath.  I can't wait to finish so I can put the glycerin on and cross my legs. I love crossing my legs. 

-Cecilia

Flaker Creativity