Because very few people are telepathic, he wears his memories on his flesh. Constantly reversing his immune system's work, he displays his wounds...his illness...his distortions to the world. It may cause you to look away, drag your curious youth to the nearest safe point; but to him it's beautiful. Not because he finds the grotesque: gorgeous or the filth: fine; but because it's sexy to survive. It's sexy to rise from the ashes...to surface alive from puddles of blood...to remain whole after being fractured and shattered. To him, the soul is only visible after the body's been broken.
Because very few people are aware of how often this happens, he scribbles the truth across his skin...runs it through his nostrils...stretches his lobes with it's weight. You call it distortion; he calls it commonplace. You call it warped; he suggests its reality. He recognizes the crow's feet along your young eyes. He decodes your stiff stride in your painful shoes. You call it privacy; he call it deception.
From his perspective, we are a society who have grown accustomed to being raped. We are a people who's comfortable with slavery. He witnesses us relaxing and adjusting to take it all in because resistance proves to be too inconveinant. He's the freak because he wears his shackles outwardly? He's the freak because his modifications testify a universal violation?
Little do we know, we look just as perverted to him.
We grin and bear it. We ask for more.
Who's the real monster?
6 comments:
while i wouldn't take it to such extremes, as i find it impractical [but isn't it the point, the discomfort?], but i do speak via my skin, in some fashion...
i guess i can somewhat relate to this. somewhat...
HUGZ
Please.
These people don't attest to some universal hidden truth about the concept of real beauty or anything else remotely thought provoking.
They look this way because they realize without the freakish monstrous distortions they're achingly average and that there is little to them anyone would find noteworthy until they've stretched it pierced it or in some other way defiled it for little more than pure shock value and the ability to feel martyred and unfairly judged.
Your Forbidden Light has shined on me! Another Kreativ Blogger Award! Kudos!
@Corey: You have no idea what this does for me! Thank you sooo much, kind sir!
This reminds me of when I was teenager going through my "black" phase. Fall, winter, spring, and summer I dressed COMPLETELY in black. Everyday I wore black: shirts, pants, socks, trench coats, sun glasses, and a fedora...lol. Everyone thought I was a member of the whole "Trench Coat Mafia" (those kids that shot up Columbine)and counselors had me in the office regularly.
At first I thought I was just trying to be different; however, in retrospect I was hiding. Moreover, I was expressing my sadness through my fashion.
I never call into doubt anyone's authenticity because they are expressing themselves that way for a reason.
I agree with Toddy...Everyone has a message their trying to send via their outward appearance. Whether it's in vanity or esoterica; its an attempt to spell out a personal belief...
What I love most is that an eyebrow piercing on two people could have two VASTLY different meanings...
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