The inside man

            I am the inside man. Don’t trust this skin and this head, they are both fake. I m inside, I live inside my, inside my body, the outside is my protection, my shell. I don’t if I always be this kind of man, when you become an inside man, did I born like this?

            The huge cannot pass this shall, the violence of this world doesn’t affect me at all. Only the small, the tiny can pass and touch me, touch my true skin. I can see only the insignificant, the trivial with my true inside eyes, my outside eyes, these that you see, can just recognize shape, motion they cannot feel, they give my social information, just to survive, just to stay in the middle of you, be these fake social eyes never give me pleasure or feeling, only the inside eyes can. And this mouth, it’s as fake as the rest of my outside body, from here only air escape, air in motion, that all, never a word.

            Yes I live in the inside. The live has carved this shell with a hammer. It has given it currently shape, its size and weight, the curve of my smile and my back. But this hammer has never touch my true body, my inside body. Yes but you know what worst can happen to the inside men, this silly story, that cheap and so common story, LOVE, the worst thing that can happen to the inside man.

            Now I want to see her, to touch her with my true skin my true hand. For her I don’t want to hide anymore, she must see me, see and touch who I am. I am in my bathroom, in front of my mirror, the knife is here also. I am not scary at all I know that what I show in the mirror is fake; it is just a shell, empty. I take the knife, I will remove that sheet I will show her real body, my inside body. I start with my hand because I want to touch, to touch her with my real skin. And than with this blade I will remove this head, I will take out this silly face, this stupid eyes and mouth. The blade enter in my outside skin, I not afraid anymore….