It's too bad I cut back on drinking, because I sort-of love horrible, drunken, embodiment prose.
I've lost track of who I am writing this to. If I ever knew. But this is what I want.
You, standing close to me while I take off my flesh. I will carefully peel back the layers of my eyes - conjunctiva, cornea, sclera, iris, lens, retina, macula, vitreous, choroid. Each layer has a god(dess) who answers a prayer hidden in the lines of my fingertips. I will rest my lenses in the curve of your collarbone, while you blur the memory of past lovers with watercolors pooled in the corners of your lips.
You, standing close to me while I take off my flesh. Unseeing, I will move toward you and offer my ribcage to all your hidden prayers. They will break through bone, they will find where every blood cell dances. The prayers on your thumb and the litanies on your palm will brush against the jewels embedded in my heart. You will break them free and press them against my blind, seeking lips. Feed them to me one by one.
This is when I know who you are.
This is when I surrender.