Incineration

Click here to download the text.

As I unbury a tangle of memories from my chest, I accidentally pull off a fibrous thread of unhealed wounds, their tissues reopened with the admittance of a new rawness. 

The effect of such affect awakens a previously closed bud, ancient gash of intense ardor. 

Removing the burden’s bandage is to stick onto the skin its other face, exposing what was restrained within, outside.  

This indisposed adherence is a feeling of fresh air but also a fright of trembling hands, a spasm of finding oneself paralyzed at the threshold of a past, without the chance to make amends with the present tense as of yet.   

Incinerating my body’s structure is to scald all the women I have burned in me in the name of love – betraying myself along the way, lacerating my slit with abrasions.    

Today, I’m in the flesh at every moment, a future residue of the embers that will fall from me as I set myself on fire again: in the cinders of a season aired by its own coal, inflaming the metal gauzes that allow themselves to come to an end, without any safety net.

Gazing the fading of the stars, fainting each and every night, I become ashes.