Pictures of skin
CN: Allusions of self-harm
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Cover my skin with pictures of skin
Layer them thick
Thicker than brick
Fortress of flesh to make me resilient
When I was six we went camping. Sitting in the tent one evening, my father handed me a metal box. Inside, on a bed of red velvet, was a Swiss Army knife. I tried to pull open one of the blades but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, pulling as hard as I could, and it burst open, cutting deep into the flesh of my thumb. I looked into the cut and for a second saw white before it was drowned by the rising flood of blood.
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Paper mâché and staple them in
Tear every hair from scalp, torso, and limbs
Thread them through needles and stick them back in
Stitch pictures of skin into my skin
Make them skin tight
Don’t let anything in
A perfect surface of pictures of skin
The first time I masturbated was at my grandparents’ beach house. I was in bed in the dark. My sister was asleep in a bed next to mine. I touched my penis, not knowing what I was doing. I pushed my fingers under the foreskin, exploring small nodes of flesh. My penis released a sticky substance. I was disgusted. I promised I would never do it again. I did it again the next night.
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Cover me with pictures of immaculate skin
Tear pages from dermatology textbooks and porn magazines
Google image search skin Select all results Then click print
Cover my skin with infinite skin
Seven layers aren’t enough to keep them out and me in
We made swords in woodwork class. I spent hours sharpening mine with a plane. When I ran my finger lightly along the wooden blade it cut the skin. A few years later we used the swords in English class to perform the fight between Macbeth and Macduff. The swords collided hard, leaving notches in the blades. Max’s sword bounced off mine and hit me just below the eye. I kept going for a few moments before I the teacher told me to stop. I went to the bathroom and in the mirror saw blood dripping down my face like tears.
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Cover my wounds with pictures of skin
Blood drenched paper sticks to the slits
It dries into place like a scab I won’t itch
Fix rips in my skin with pictures of skin
Or cover my wounds with pictures of wounds
Pictures of slits on my wrists
Pictures of bruises attached to my ribs
Pictures of burns on my hands and fingers
I’m not trying to build a disguise
All I want is protection
Protect my skin with pictures of skin
I was running because I was running late to meet Jono for a movie. I didn’t see the chain hung across the pathway to prevent cars from driving along it. I tripped and fell forwards, bracing against the impact with my left arm. At the end of the path, the gate was locked so I scaled the fence and dropped down on the other side, hurrying to make it to the cinema in time. After the film, my arm was still throbbing so I went to the afterhours clinic where an x-ray showed that my elbow was fractured.
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Stuff them into every single orifice
Fill me to the brim
I want skin everywhere, both outside and in
Turn me to something solid
Instead of a void beneath a thin layer of skin
Or cover my orifices completely with pictures of skin
Make me whole Make me smooth
Cover my holes with perfectly stretched skin
Conceal all blemishes with pictures of picture perfect flesh
Cover my gaps with pictures of skin
Mummify me with it
Turn me into a flawless ball of pure skin
After I tried to kill myself, my uncle gave me a knife for Christmas. It came in plastic packaging. The handle was red, so was the blade. I took it to my father. He put it away somewhere. I haven’t seen it since.
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Cover my skin with pictures of other people’s skin
Different colours, textures, and shapes of skin
I don’t want to be me I want to be them
Cover my chest with pictures of breasts
Cover my dick with pictures of bigger dicks
I’ve always wanted to be a different person
Cover me with pictures of them
Or remix my skin into a nightmarish thing
Cover my chest with pictures of limbs
Pictures of anuses all over my neck
Lips on my chin Bellybuttons on wrists Nipples on shins
Or cover my skin with different things
Give me tail Give me claws Give me angels’ wings
Cover my skin with fur, feathers, and scales
Bury me in them
Hide my skin too deep to be discovered again
Or cover my skin in invisible ink
Let me disappear under invisible pictures of skin
I would punch myself as hard as I could. In the head, the legs, the ribs. I left deep purple and black bruises. It hurt so much I thought I had broken bones inside of me. Eventually it wasn’t enough. One evening I went out to the shed and took out a hammer. I swung it at myself, again and again and again.
How do you draw a picture of skin?
Coloured pencils or pen? Do you paint or use ink?
What kind of paper mimics the texture the best?
Blemishes so difficult to realistically represent
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
Cover my skin with failed pictures of skin
Pictures of pictures of pictures of skin
Photocopy my body Copy the copy then wrap me in it
Create more copies then rip them to bits
Tear them apart to drift in the wind
I walk through the park, littering skin
Leaving a trail of bits of my skin
Pictures of skin
Pictures of skin
What is the difference between pictures and skin
Both equally thin
Equally easy to rip
Confetti of skin
Tear me apart
It’s a celebration of twitching and quivering skin
About the author
Jackson Nieuwland is a genderqueer poet from Te Whanganui-a-Tara. They are very tired and very boring.
