Fake Tatoos

When I look in the mirror, I see a 36-year-old grown man. Male pattern baldness, grey hairs, physical scars, I see them all. Away from the mirror though, I feel like the scared, fragile toddler who was taken from sleep and forced into sex with a strange man.

Crowds do that to me, make me small. They cause fear. Lectures and arguments do that to me. I’ve worked on those things for years… just kind of toughening up and biting the bullet as I walk through life.

I always thought that those things had been planted in a previous lifetime. Wondering were I am every time I wake up encouraged that belief. I finally put the pieces together, 33 fucking years later. What a dummy!

The reason I still use a nightlight is because my subconscious is on the constant look out for that faceless man my mom moved us in with when I was 3. The reason I was an all-conference linebacker is because I loved to tear the bodies of faceless men in half. It made me feel big, and strong.

It’s confusing to work through those thoughts, where my phobias came from, how they were planted against my will, by a stranger with no name, no face. My parents always told me that I was shy, that I daydreamed a lot. Really though, I’ve just been shit scared of strangers my whole life.

Fuck it. I’m going to make some new friends… maybe we can play Legos and give each other fake tattoos.

— Lee Stone —



About Lee Stone -leest1-

The world is changing: Stand for Something. Soporte Para Algo. Independent Poet/Artist. Portland, OR · http://facebook.com/sonstone
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