Angry

Unfinished mutilated thoughts giving birth to a rising tide of discord I'd rather not own. It's like an innocent little match lying in wait in a dry pocket. It's like the proverbial pregnant pause before the onslaught. It's like the shifting currents pulling, pulling, pulling and though I resist, I am weakening. I should just let go. As I write these words, I know I should just let go and surf the tumult impending. When I dream of TidalWaves, high, so high above me, it always means I'm in for it. Covered in mud and debris, the reasons unfold in scattered pieces of my dream, shattered and strewn far away from me. An aftertaste in images evoke emotions that churn in my chest and rise into my throat, a stifled scream hiding behind my nearly ever present smile. And I'm angry.....I'm so angry.....


Fuck