Liberate

My skin has always been clean
shining white porcelaine
No hair, No dirt
No tarnish, No blood

The pores fill
with toxins, and lotions,and dyes
But the gleam remains

I try to remember the grass
like my old friend
It slithers its' way back up
toward the sky
'round my edges where I pressed it down

Tiny creatures come out and search my flesh
I ask the Sun for its' healthy essense
and push the poisons out
Let it turn pink
and build with grime
until it's bark;
calling and craving
the symbiosis of fungus and bugs

Always scratching, never itching

I wouldn't even miss being
shiny, and polished, and sterile
Like such fine furniture
hot, marble tits
glisten like glasses of milk
on a warm covered rock
brilliantly out of place
and vulnerable
crumbling into leather weights
Heaving
with manganese, glycerine, and meat biproducts

Let the vines crawl up my thigh
and not the veins
Knots in my trunk
and not in my fingers

A happy crease by my mouth forever