the scream

something is ripping off this bandage
I've worn
for many years,
perhaps since I was born.

layers peel off
one warp and weft at a time;
I can feel every hair
smart and pull
and singe,
I can feel
every pore that holds them,
being pried open slowly,

and nothing comes out
but this one shot of breath,
sparking the fires
that choke me;
unable to speak,
all I can do is shriek
and fall into that chasm
of dark silence
where there is no skin to hold me,
only the white emptiness
shrieking back at me.