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Aggression Wounds

Can I escape? The chances are low but the impact is high. I feel drained and this is torture. I'd like to reclaim some culture. This mess I'm in is going nowhere. And I care too much that I know I'm leading myself to self preservation. It's just another way for me to look in and around - a sort of window shopping for the soul. It's what you do to get by that counts.

Can I disappear? I'll eulogise the moment that I'm no longer in the way. It's such a negative way to go. Agony aunts being the perfect outpoint for when I've got guts to spill. It's not for nothing that I'm kept waiting. Taking the train that never returns. The emptiness inside me hits harder every time. Don't start thinking you'll be a saviour. It's just the start of something else that'll work with me.

Overgrown kids decide what happens next. The aggressive intent in everybody frightens me. Everyone is a surveillance analyst in their specialised positions. The aggressive intent in me also frightens me when pushed. There's death by a thousand cuts, bringing back the despair of old. Leave me where I am, I'll find the energy in good time whenever that might be. I learn to love the illusion of how healthy I thought I was. The reality is I was lying to myself.

Time went quickly, the youthful 20s become the craggy 40s. Everyone's older, everything is buried under the rubble of time. It would be nice to feel somewhat more human. The more I track myself, the more I become disenchanted with the whole business. I feel like a shadow of my former self. No confidence at all after all that has happened. It feels like my life flickered out and forgot to tell me that the party's over and it's time to go home.

Transitions of time. Transitions of space. We must retreat. We must retreat. We must retreat even if it is too late. The aggression wounds that never heal. Just seal the deal and tell me I'm done!

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