When I was six years old
I was so afraid of skeletons
that I wished I didn’t have one.
Living with death as the foundation of your body
Sharing a fleshy home
with your mortality as a roommate.
Ten years later, I was a goth kid
wearing the skeletons in my closet.
Sometimes bones are too bare to bear.
I tell women,
“If some guy annoys you by asking for nudes,
‘I’ve got something better. These are next level nudes.’
And then send him your X-Rays.”
I think stripping is the opposite of therapy.
Instead of laying out your insecurities as laundry to be ironed,
Dancers disrobe to put on
an invincible, cybernetic self
with a glitter aura,
Slick with Teflon-coated sweat.
In therapy, you pay someone else
to watch you undress.
Calling an analyst a “shrink”
is saying we’re diminished by therapy
When it’s more like dancing under a microscope.
People look at others
with the eyes of a hungry surgeon
and see themselves
through Photoshopped funhouse mirrors.
Instagramming our meals is just a next-level selfie.
A selfie is, “Look at my face.”
A food picture is, “…and look what goes into my face!”
We consume ourselves and each other
Finding bones to pick
Picking bones clean.
We make fun of selfies, but
Every great work of art throughout history
has essentially been a selfie,
Creators calling out, “I am here!”
Graffiti tagging the walls of time.
It turns out
The emperor has never had clothes.
But he’s always had a damn good Snapchat filter.