Healing; circa 2007 but gotta keep it REAL-evant

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I look at my wound

A fleshy calaca

Speckled with pink and red dots where hair follicles

Once existed.

It is my cortada with its rosada edges

an umbra of swollenness.

I look at my wound

Slimy como un gargajo

Me llena de asco

But why does my mouth water when I look at it?

I focus on the pain

Feel it throb up and down my arm

Makes my nails tingle

I feel the throb until my clit tingles.

I ignore my cut for days

Leave it exposed, victim to the elements

Vulnerable to infection.

“Huh I should put something on it. Some ointment or something.”

I research the web under branding and in the process

Learn about the highly infectious nature of burns.

One degree more and I could’ve damaged the nerve endings.

I cover my wound with a Band Aid

To silence the pain.

My thoughts get the best of me

I get chilled with loneliness, paralyzed with irrational fears

My thoughts run wild

ever present

bare

like bones

I reach for the Band Aid

And as I pull it off the stinging mixes in with another type of pain

The pulling of tiny hairs from their root “sssss, uh.”

Pain.

Pains

make me who I am, makes us who we are

Our bodies are screaming with pain

Physical, mental and emotional

Pain brings us together

It repels us

“Get away! You pained me.”

“get away you’re damaged goods.

Look at my wounds.

“Cover that shit up.”

I struggle not to be hostage to my pain

But it is my pain

Fuck you for giving it to me

Fuck you for not knowing it.

“Can you see my wound, it’s only residue?”

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