Archive for January, 2016


January 28, 2016

Eventually you just have to rip it off. In the process you wish the wound would come off and stick to it so it becomes disposable, but it won’t. You put soap on the gash to remind you of life and convince you that you are human. You’re a dreamer. But the clouds in your head scare you. The rain, you say, is too much and the basin of your brain can’t hold the thoughts waiting to break free as flood to wash you away, wilted. Even water hurts flesh that’s sensitive to harshness. The band can conceal the sight, but when it suffocates the severity, you’ll realize how it is devoid of aid. You look forward to a scar, the palpable possibility of closure. You will trace it with a finger that trembles at the mention of memories. Anticipation has never been this mending.