Lesion

I can’t stop picking at it, I just keep scratching and digging at the tissue. It’s too ugly to ignore, but I know if I stop touching it I’ll recover just fine. However, I am a masochist and logic is not my forte. As I repeatedly irritate the wound, I can almost feel that gut wrenching feeling that entrenches my stomach and holds my heart hostage amid my bowels; it’s at the core of the injury. The sensation is all too familiar, it’s the same feeling you experience when you’re rejected for a date to the 8th grade social or you discover that your significant other never really liked a particular author but said otherwise to appease you. In the process of forming, the lesion, begins to take shape and pusses over. It is at that moment when one realizes the occupancy of the foreign ailment. The lesion of heartbreak.

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4 thoughts on “Lesion

  1. Yes ..Yes…seems the poison is in the wound, and the wound won’t heal. Infected by love.
    You know, when I read works like this I’m taken to a place where I find it very difficult to articulate anything from the intellect. I’m just all feeling. Happens all the time with the beautiful woman who commented above my head. Also with Ed Pilolla, do check him out. A simple Google search will do it. He’s over at blogspot. You’re too talented not to be noticed. I’ll do whatever I can to move you along…
    Best,
    Jaco

  2. As powerful as your words are (and they are indeed powerful!), I can’t stop staring at that photo of the figure precariously parked on the bench, with her head turned just so, practically tapping her feet with anticipation as she looks down the road for…?

    Did you take the photo? Very eerie, and at the same time, very serene and ethereal. Lots of eeeees there.

    Wave to Jaco…who is, who is, who is, a very creative writer, no matter what he says or thinks.

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