What I love most about expression, is that it can be manipulated.
I remember being present.
I remember being present.
I remember being present.
I was once a gift to that aspect you call life.
Imagine for a moment that this next part isn’t staged.
You’re happy.
Very comfortable.
Sitting on a chair that is ergonomically suited for many physical needs.
I’m looking at your eyes, not quite the hue I most value. Your pupils are large – you like me, don’t you?
Nothing matters.
I turn my head slowly to the left and ask, ‘pass the scalpel.’
Crow glides down from a scratched bookcase and gently places it into my left hand.
With my right hand, I pick it up.
I’m delicate but you cry out in pain. I cut round from your left eyebrow down to the corner of your mouth. Crimson blurs the shade of your iris.
**I follow a superficial line around the rest of your face. Then with my scalpel, I gently peel back your skin.**
Slowly with care
Delicately with consideration
Then a tug at the end for good measure.
‘You’re now ready to go out into the world Sir. Show your true identity.
Be the bitch you’ve always been behind most doors.’
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