What would it feel like to be on fire?
It's mentioned in desire and hatred equally,
in areas of lust and in moments of pain,
where loathing or passion consume.
I can close my eyes and imagine mouths
distorted in mishapen Os of misery,
flesh melting like candle wax,
crisping like turkey skin, well-done.
In my mind, fingers blacken and curl,
over-ripe bananas that burst at the tip,
and blisters colonize tender areas like
upper lips and forearms.
Right now, I feel as if I've doused myself
in a barrel of water after the burn,
and I'm screaming soundlessly underwater
as my skin sloughs off in tallow chunks,
rising to the surface.