Friday, March 30, 2007

Love Being

Love Being
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

Love Being

Sometimes writing in earnest and honest prose
makes me feel like a big open wound;
vulnerable, fleshy—moist, mealy.

My words, surgical tools—cutting, digging, extracting;
long slices revealing; shameless disclosures,
spilling like blood upon the surgical table.

When love serves as anesthesia, I can barely feel
the pain—dull, heavy, numb—especially,
when I succumb to having my heart yanked out.

And yet, here I am. Again, writing;
masochistically delighting in the agony of man,
suffering, because I can, feel.

God, how I love being human.

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