"redirecting" poems - Hello Poetry

"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself

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Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC

hepaamon

Mae Mae's Jacket

"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself