(a fictional account)
I'm trying to remember what pain tastes like.
With each fresh new wound I’m tempted to
Accelerate the healing process by
Sucking at the open flesh and
drawing the hurt to the surface.
Humans are evolved to dislike the taste of pain
After all, if poison were delicious
Who knows where we’d be.
I imagine it would be like
Seeing the first drop hit your lips
And watching you die slowly...
Maybe I just learned to hate the taste.
Maybe it’s something like
Bright red knees hitting bathroom tiles
Your hands holding back my hair
And all the spirits exhumed from my body
After the spirit died out.
I don’t remember what my own pain tastes like.
It’s something like
the shock of bright red blood sucked up to the surface
finding scars in new places
And the way you said “I love you” the next morning on the bathroom floor.
I am not able to remember what pain tastes like.
But I try to jog my memory
By chasing my shots with sugar
Decorating my poisons with pink paper umbrellas
And drinking until the sweet taste turns sour.
