My Disgusting Body.

I completely disavow any understanding of or affinity for my body. I can't begin to try to explain how or why it does the disgusting things that it does. I mean, it has eyeballs for God's sake. They're full of clear liquid, and they're always moist and covered with tiny blood vessels. And lest I forget, they're attached to my brain. Don't even get me started about my brain. It's squishy and firm, and looks like the bastard son of a funnel-cake and a flan.

I try to keep from exerting my body, because when I do it secretes an oily, stinky, shiny fluid out of the thousands of tiny holes in my skin. In many areas of my body hairs come out of the pores as well. Disgusting, that's what it is. My body is fleshy and veiny and full of blood. It is so easy to accidentally break my skin, and when I do the gummy, mettalic-tasting blood oozes out and stains everything it touches. From my smelly little feet to my hot, humid, slimy mouth I creep myself out.

Underneath my squishy flesh it is the only part of me that I am willing to call my own. My bones are strong, and they keep the rest of me in shape. Looking in the mirror, sometimes I imagine that I can see my skull, and I wish I could just be my bones for a while. I feel like I can trust my bones. You can have my malleable, moist, and bothersome guts, but I'll keep my ribs, skull, femurs and phalanges. My body is already rotting on the vine, slowly dying, and I can't wait until I can wear my skeleton smile in peace without its constant interruptions.