holes:

I feel the flesh burn away

beneath the head of the nail that

i’ll use again later to seal my fate

with one swift drive of it through my heart.

Broken pieces, shards of what

remains of my youthful fantasies – oh why

did i let it get to this point?

awash in drowsy notions of my inconsequence.

Let the flame burn brighter; burn brighter!

i’ll pass the nail through it until

the metal glows orange from the heat

and then bite back the cry that pours from

my mouth as i press the head to my hip.

The smell of seared flesh, the shiver of agony

brand me as surely as the holes in my skin

will form scar tissue, red and angry

at first, and then smooth and faded with time.

Brand me as the failure i see myself

awash in drowsy notions, drowsy motivations

awash; adrift; anchored only to this

moment by the sizzle of my burning skin.

Brand me as abhorrent for the heady rush it sends

coursing through my veins – such a thrill of control

a rush of endorphins that cause my breath to hitch

and arouse within me a tingle of pleasant anticipation.

But the shame of it breaks my heart; the holes in my

expectations weep as freely as the holes in my flesh

and the irony is agonizingly delicious but the penance

must be extracted, so i bear down once more;

I wait for the release.