Simply A Spark

Buried beneath

All the layers of my

S**t skin armor,

The flaky, translucent

Wrapping that hides my organs,

My insides,

My sins--

It cowers behind my

Calluses, my dry

Sand paper skin.

I'm as flammable as a

Damn wasps' nest,

But my tenants are all

Self-impaled and burnt to

A crisp;

I've counted not one,

But two fingers glowing

With blistering flame--

I put them into my mouth

To swallow the pain,

But now I'm turning to ash,

Pumped from my heart to my lips. 

Reviews

[FJ Davis]

The first time I read this, I thought you might be characterizing some kind of hapless phoenix--or, at least, a reluctant one.
In her review below, Judy indicates you revealed to her that this poem was meant to describe the intense eruption of a "burning" secret; one which was so troubling to its keeper that concealing it was literally destroying him.
Now, of course, that's what I say--and despite my first sentence, I really knew it all along.

[Judy Ponceby]

Now that I understand your meaning, I can see how this burning secret seems to be greater than the shell encasing it. Its very existence burning away the humanity... Too many times terrible secrets aren't so terrible in the light of day. Brilliant work Ben. :) Thanks for sharing.

[Hello, Goodbye]

very impressive carnal descriptors.. the expression seems very candid in its darker notions.. it seems resolute in being what it is and not worrying about what its expected to be... very interesting write..