toria vd Poet Rhyme

Mend or Burn...RHYME

I press the silver pin between my thumbs,
and drive it through the edges of my own torn meat.
To mend oneself, a sanguine torture comes;
how could one mistake this act for sweet?

The needle takes a cold, surgical bite,
and forces through the weeping, open skin.
Dragging coarse thread to pull the borders tight;
I cinch the knot to trap the rot within.

I bind decay and call the prison mine,
forcing a dying creature to endure.
While every screaming nerve rejects the twine,
I sew the ruin secure.

The stitches tear away time after time;
this isn't healing - it’s a corpse's veil,
A slow and agonizing bloody crime,
where every seam is doomed to fail.

And so I strike the match to catch the flare,
for burning is the only mercy left.
I seek the blinding fever in the glare,
to cleanse the flesh of which I am bereft.

I watch the orange lick along the tear,
singeing the thread and drinking up the red.
Consuming ragged shell and deep despair,
to burn away the stitched-up, living dead.

The flame demands no hope, no time, no grace;
just takes the knotted pulse and jagged bone.
It unmakes every scar without a trace,
and leaves a weightless peace I’ve never known.

The fever cleanses every infected rash,
undoing all the harm the needle wrought.
The heavy pulse dissolves to ash,
yielding the silent stillness I have always sought.

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