I can feel it under my skin.
It tries to come to the surface
and burns through me,
as if I am made of fire instead of flesh.
The blackness is like tar beneath my skin;
I can feel it itching as it starts
to seep through at unexpected moments,
almost sighing in relief
when it is able to feel the air
upon its surface.
When it does this,
I cease being myself.
Instead, I am a black monster
filled with rage.
I am blind as all I can see
is a red cloud in front of me
that throbs and pluses with the
blackness that runs throughout me.
In that moment,
I cease to be
and there is just emotion:
anger, rage, hate.
I scream to try and release
what I am feeling
and the sound frightens me
being guttural and primal
and unlike any sound
I am capable of.
That release soothes the monster
who resides within my skin,
and the black layer reveals itself
to be skin that has burnt away,
flaking off and falling to the floor.
The red cloud still pulses in front of me
and I can ignore it for a time.
I can pretend that it doesn’t exist,
until it gets beneath my skin once more
and starts to turn black
from lack of air.