Transparency

I'm starting to think I'm poisonous: harmful to the human body. But I can survive myself. It's slow, the process. Like a digestive enzyme eating away at their skin and self glacier-slow. Suddenly they realize; I am revealed for what I am. What am I?  Man or beast or woman or jellyfish? Raven or writing desk?

They take it for an act of betrayal. It is my fault: I was not able to articulate me. They say I've tricked them, roped them in with a set of lies about the nature of my being. How can I lie to you? Can I, if I never knew the truth?

I want to warn them but I get so caught up; maybe this time it will be different.... They will have armadillo skin, impervious to my wicked ways. It was an accident, I didn't mean to be this way. Help, help, help me! I've got to get out, out, out of this skin, skin, skin. I am not Square (VAS, Steve Tomasula). I own my body, I am not my body. These genes are no message just material. Let me out.

"You've changed!" No, you see that's the problem. I keep trying but nothing seems to work.

But I am scared to jump out of my own skin.