Through my hands violence flows.
I explore it with curiosity, I let it grow.
My body harbours it with gratitude.
Jealousy’s gargantuan net brought us together.
I tried to sear it within me by undoing her.
I wanted to rid myself of a sensation unpleasant
And load it unto her most violently.
From woman to woman, I wanted her gone.
My voices stemmed from an imagination so grand
That tragedy found its way back to me.
I had released the words and made them my fate.
The curse intended for her became mine, my mouth
Orchestrated my own demise. My tongue made it real.
They tied me to the horns of a bull and I tasted my own toxicity.
“Christian Dirce” by Henryk Siemiradzki (1843-1902)