Si cor meum erat, a libro, hoc est, quomodo legere

Surgery without anesthetic

It's half of me

I must make an incision halfway down my tongue
So that my words are in a language more palatable for your tone
I scream until my throat is dry

It's much easier for you to hear me that way anyhow

Next
While the blood on my scalpel is still warm
I cut away 50% of my soul
You told me it has grown like a tumour
That removing carcinogens is rarely painless

I did not feel anything at first
It was the slow whistling of the world through my being
That's when I began to feel empty
So I theorised if I could fill it with something
Something good
Maybe it would be less cold
Less empty
Energised I sought for the right tools
Cauterised over old wounds
Diligently tinkering with my body in the theatre
My heart rate dangerously low but you helped keep it going

Then the skin was sewn up
Hands steady
Threads like these were built on faith.

Then when I am healed
I show you how beautiful it is
To be rebuilt
To feel new
How healthy

You say
No
Talk quieter
That I am sick

I feel my hand start to long for the scalpel and the blinding light of the operating table.