It is 12:43 in the morning.

I am envisioning lighting my face on fire.

Eyelashes drenched in kerosene, dripping down my chin, soaking my hair

Blink. Blink. Light.

I feel the scrape of the lighter under the pad of my thumb before my hair catches fire

face engulfed in flame, turned to blistered flesh in seconds.

People use the term “faceless” to describe someone they do not know the identity of.

For that reason, my appearance finally matches my lack of identity.

No pun intended.