the exhibitionist

"i want to spread myself out for you

i want you to see

all of me"

and when i say this,

i excite you

i arouse you

i make a new man out of you

don't i?

i start shedding,

revealing

unconcealing.

my sensual body

is clothed only in your gasp and your stare

and the look on your face

is enough to arouse me as well

touch me with your naked hand

all my clothes undone

you think i am done

but not yet

for i havent shed anything yet

in unintentional ingenuity

(but oh what ingenuity!)

i shed

and i shed

shed skin and flesh and bone

in front of your eyes

until i am nothing more

than just the vaguest memory of somebody dead

i wanted to show

i wanted to tell

i wanted to reveal

and leave nothing behind for you to misunderstand

i left nothing behind

you saw

you saw all of me

but what you saw

you couldn't make out

as me

because you knew, i know, you too are what i am on the inside

the same flesh, the same blood, the same gory biological detail nobody wants to pay attention to -

ugly, intolerable truth.

but why must it be told?

why must it be shown?

when it's in all of us

and showing thus, it keeps us from remaining alive.

in showing all that can be seen

there was nothing left of me.

we all want to see

we all want to be shown

i think you got more than you asked for

but i wanted to show more

i wanted to show so much more

but i was gone before i was done

so maybe you did misunderstand me, after all.

and just to be fair

i hope you'll keep a lock of my hair.