Peeling My Face Off

I day dream sometimes, about peeling my face off.
Filleting the muscles that hold my lips and eyes together.
While all the while, smiling my bony grin forever.
I day dream about meathooks holding my body aloft.

Maybe one day I’ll close my eyes and cease
to dream of hooks and knives and darkened screams.
Maybe one day I’ll cringe, with my face still tight
around my skull without fear of a bloody feast.
No cries of birds plucking at my swollen seams
that barely hold my fleshy mask on right.

Until them I still dream of hooks and points
and watch my facial muscles peel and quake
under the strain of being stolen from my face.
One day I’ll stop, and leave my face a’joint
but today I’ll let my skin stretch and shake
and dream of slowly peeling off my face.