writing skin

Our skin —

all over us, inside us;

multiple, divisible, same same but different; different in parts within, and all over, the same self; a multiplicity.

 

And where, it is our scars — that write themselves onto us, the keloids that hold us, claw us (khele) together — which give us form (eidos).

 

Without which, there is no possibility of even knowing (eidenai),

catching a glimpse of,

our very self.

 

The skin upon which I write,

upon which I writhe. Which writhes on me as I write.

 

As I am writing skin.