Talking to myself (On erasure)

“It is that time.”

“What time?”

“Time to erase.”

“What have you erased?”

“One starts with oneself.”

“Then there is nothing left to erase?”

“If you pull out the root, nothing will grow…”

“What about the fruit, flowers, leaves that have been there?”

“They cease to be.”

“But their seeds have spread.”

“They spread the seeds. I am not responsible for that.”

“They are a part of you, you gave them birth.”

“What use is giving birth when what you create kills you?”

“But you are erasing yourself.”

“I am erasing what has been sought to be killed.”

“It did not die.”

“If something does not die it does not mean murder has never been attempted.”

“Isn’t erasure murder?”

“No, it is a shedding of skin.”

“How many layers will be there?”

“As much as there is depth. I will keep erasing. One day I will reach the raw flesh and then tap on the bones. It will be like music.”

“What do you have against skin?”

“It is stealthy. It can merely be touched, not devoured. It is incomplete…and it makes no music.”

“And what about erasure?”

“It is only when you are finished that you are complete.”