Critical

Some write. I spontaneously combust.

This is the truth of the matter:

 

I am unlike you, and for the most part,
you have been blessed.

 

The pen I hold is stainless steel.

 

I sit in an unheated room in the middle of winter
with the window open.  The brown metal chair leans to the left.

I am uncomfortable.  I still sweat.

You don't know this fire.

 

I am not afraid of your critical eye.  I will not shy away
from your comments typed in haste, well-meaning or not.

 

I wake up and spontaneously combust when an image
appears in my head, unwanted and unannounced.

No one can feel the heat but me. 

 

This room is my burn ward.

 

I am both the patient crying out in pain and the doctor
who methodically debrides my wounds.

 

I am engulfed in flames until the images are purged
from my system and the fire extinguished from within.

 

I am not a writer.  I am a burn victim.

These words 

                     grafted skin.

 These hands

                       scar tissue. 

I am disfigured.

I write for as long as I can bear the heat

I cannot sleep or speak or eat

I hold on just long enough to transcribe
my own prescription.

 

I will never heal.

 

 

Reviews

[Relic]

......................... WOW!

[Travis Gibson (poetic h..]

Whew... this concept and those lines! Gems all throughout this. You must have really scorched the room you were in! Great write!

[LJW]

TY..................................

[C. Rose]

Favorite lines: "transcribe my own prescription" "fire extinguished from within" "these words are grafted skin"

I admit this opening turned me off. The opening shames the reader for their lack of pain, and compares your pain to theirs. On the other hand I applaud you. It takes great strength both the analyze your pain and to open yourself up to the opinions of others.

My favorite concept is that of being both doctor and patient. It makes me feel like I have more control over my health than I think.

[SkinlessFrank]

nice...this form of self-medication seems like the right path to clarity

[Sonia]

Wow, this was truly an intense and powerful poem and i love the images it make in my head.
Really well done!

[Emily B]

I've been longing for the day when my words meet metal, I imagine it would somemthing like these words of yours

[Chilson, Joshua]

This poem is a beautiful entry to my contest, as much as it's contradictory to use "Beautiful" as a description, it's hard to find people really showing who they are in their works. Thank you for this submission, I have more than enjoyed reading this, pain is something we all live with and time to time give to others.

[Doctor JKC]

The pen I carry is made by Smith & Wesson;
but is less lethal than your own.

We don't heal. We move.

Dr. Callaghan

[Spit_and_Prayers]

It transcends the painful focus of being a burn victim to become a conduit to describe the rending fire of writing that which most pains us. It boils away the covering on the soul, and lays it bear to be gawked at by spectators, who jeer or throw pity blindly, and the few who may have genuine compassion. Interesting, I'm left not knowing exactly what to feel.

[Patrick Davies]

You really regurgitated a lot of the pain you have been inflicted with in this poem, and in doing so you hurt yourself again and again but also found relief? God. That's so much pain. After writing, does the pain go away or does it pleasurably increase and spiral out of control? Do the images leave your mind completely, never to return? It reminds me of a deathly kind of labor, the way the images and pain arrive to you - however, there is only sorrow waiting post-flame. I also enjoyed what could be interpreted as a modern kind of curse, with the digital 'purging' of a computer screen. Very imaginative. Very disturbing.