Sunday, July 31, 2016

The rat

Hello again
My old unfriendly friend
I feel you rage
Boiling up again
Inside my skin.
Is it the self abuse
That's triggered you,
Or merely a boredom
Hungering for drama
You wouldn't want to deal with.
As the plans slip, flip, 
As the peril
Rushes up 
Bile heart burn throat crushing lungs tightened red eyed frightened swelling vomit cascades
The train derails as I fail to remain competent, a cog cracked in the machine careening in a sterile peril of a caged rage crushing against my spleen
Everything is perfect and there is nothing wrong with me, and yet my seams seem pushed to the limit and my fist clench irrationally as if trying to grasp at a figmentive reality that sees all plans run smoothly, a summer of falling apart as one hand finally makes a start while the other takes a rest, blessed and cursed to be last and first and lost and lost and accosting myself. 

Why the worry, why stress, why keep this mess up in the cranium, sweltering swollen beating on my temples.

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