A circus set up: outside, night, not a lot of people, a girl walked in, looking for someone, looking confused she probably just woke up, slightly annoyed by the after party of the circus members. He is a lot bigger than her. She grabbed his cloth brought him down to the ground violently away from the level of those who stand against the gravity. He is angry. She sobs. I had a bad dream she said. He, all of a sudden, developed sympathy. It was horrible, she said. In my dream I could take my face off of me, it was not just the skin, It was chunky and heavy. I could take the multilayered the front of my face off of me. Big velvety fabric drops on the stage. Now there’s table and chairs, they sat across. She seems calmer now, describing the dream. It all started since my plastic surgery, since then I could easily take my face off, that’s my first intuition. But to really think about it I had no such surgery. The surgeon the blue the ‘if you already decided to change your nose you might as well…’ were only scrambled pieces put together from other people’s anecdotes, tv shows or YouTube videos, or the conversations I took part in? Conversations I heard. From certain points onward, anyway, peeling off my face the chunky shell skin? Sandwiched eyes and whatnot because an unconscious bad habit. Splinter, like playing with your splinters. It hurts very little it kills time. A kind of fidgeting. Disgusted or amazed or some feeling that is much more neutral towards the baby fresh red new skin. Like drinking milk. The stage darken. Only candle lights were allowed to light up the corners of the stage. There’s projection on the other wall of the room, of a veranda window, long windows attached to the doors, white wooden frame out side of the window is the desktop blue. The girl lies on the velvety crumble ruffled fabric. Her friend leaning over, hands covered in white powder, slides into the girl’s mouth until she gags. ‘Like drinking milk’ he recites the last sentence in her voice. Then slowly retreating fingers and palm wiping them on the fabric underneath them, the girl’s body is still shivering from swallowing milk. He kept on telling the story in her voice. It was/is both normalised and terrifying. I held this heavy head of mine. No matter what and how I hold it, the eyes roll to a level to look at me. I do not feel naked I do not feel naked. Like air bubbles trapped in something or chicken’s head or the illusions plushie toys’ sparkly eyes give always following you, the eyes roll to a level so that they see me. I was stared at blankly when I walked through a park holding my head. The anxiety though, of putting it on and the possibility of never being able to put it on. The anxiety that I might scare people away. I noticed the eyes are turning a bit red a bit brown. It’s drying up. In fear of it dries out dying never to be reconnected to be part of me I decided to put it on, wear it. So my lips(?) touched the inside of my lips. It’s like the sensation of kissing but I was too worried to register the sensuality, but the inside bit of my mouth tasted exactly like that. Then the tip of my nose touched that of the inside of my nose, cold rubber with a bit of lube? Then eyeballs (?) or sockets to the back of my eyeballs. From those points I pushed my skin with my palm onto me. It was a bit cold a bit dry. If you accidentally opened your mouth for a bit too long when asleep then the inside of your mouth gets a a bit cold and dry, it was exactly like that. I pushed, pressing the air bubble out, hoping the skin stays on me, eyes aren’t blind. And the moment I put it on the feeling was familiar it felt like waking up or slipping successfully from/into a dream. I could see and smell. It felt like emerge myself into a pool, the first few seconds of that, the pool is still cold, but there’s clarity in the temperature difference and I am assured my body is adjusting to it. They helped each other to get up and once again sat across the table. The girl wipe her mouth and takes over the talking. I was running in panic or in joy alongside the outskirt of a park, or a seaside resort? I ran pass an old friend, they wore colourful ceremonial clothes, hair in traditional braids, making sounds that are not language. She made sound having her eyes closed. Weird I thought, performance practice maybe. I don’t get it and I was glad I don’t need to say hi. Was it also a detachable skin? Have my irises regain their colour? Hope they look less fleshy and more alive now, then I came to you.
scroll*********scroll*********scroll*********P had died for three weeks i had no idea their body looked very animated they looked like they were dreaming that’s what i meant by animated but their nap was unusually long to consider it as just a very long nap is too luxurious it’s not like the body does not smell I wonder if the possibility of someone is still sleeping will keep their body smell less a hack to not be dead circling close but not towards decomposure decomposing biology is not nice when p was three or four they cried after reading abt intestines and stuff in a children’s book cried as making a big scene with no reason but I think the reason is valid it is existential p thought in their belly there would only be you know dark space and food go in there and that’s it the sophistication of intestines and stomach or spleen or whatever is unnecessary and why i mentioned this is that if we were living in a better world that is better as it was better for the three years old p we would just be hollow inside maybe p’s body won’t smell so much or bloat and they can be mistaken for having a very long dream longer funny how people refer to the body as their body specifically when they die maybe it’s the smell will the deodorant help chemicals against biology wait why natural selection allows for people and animals to smell why are we no silicons we never see bodies until we are sure that the skins are emptied out of possibilities but still filled with meat stuff alright the other time we refer to specifically to our bodies is when it’s attractive people like snow white dead and attractive to the prince would be so bodily snow white could dream instead of starting to smell this is not fair why p cannot well sry p i am sry that you have had intestines hope in the parallel universe of silicon bodies another p is dying more gracefully and everybody dies like snow white that is the body does not bloat and get smelly bit i would never wish for you to be kissed by a random person without consent