Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Paper Skin By Jasen Sousa

Paper Skin


My skin is blank, it begs
for someone to give it life.
Draw on the lines of my pores
with a pen that penetrates like a knife.
Make me bleed with passion,
cover me with memories that will never erase.
Crosses, symbols, names,
give my body a new face.

Create a work of art
so I will be a walking museum.
I will not need to talk,
people will be able to see where I’ve been
and who I am.
Cover my skin with gorgeous colors
that resemble a summer sunset sky.
When you write on my paper skin
I am not ashamed to say, sometimes I cry.

Decorate me with precise patience,
articulate my design, my paper skin
now possesses quotes, no one else
has skin quite like mine.
Tap your feet as you draw
while your pen full of ink pulsates in your palm.
As you draw on my neck, back, belly and arm,
I will be at peace, I will be calm.

Write on my paper skin
until people stare.
Write on my paper skin
until I am something people fear.

For all of us who have paper skin,
let us be written and drawn on
with blacks, reds, purples, greens and blues.
Paper skin,
there is no feeling like getting tattooed.




Taken From
A Mosaic of My Mind By Jasen Sousa (Written at age 24)
©

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