(written while listening to “Walk on By” by Issac Hayes)


I feel like I’m on a slow train to nowheresville.

I am in my own private hell.

 My thoughts are filled with images of strangulations, decapitations, and lacerations

which I want to inflict upon those who make the mistake of pissing me off.

Sometimes in my mind, I am a warrior dressed for battle.

My katana sword and my mind become singular.

I make linear measurements front to back, right to left, and diagonally.

When I’m done, I release the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

Simmering alone in that dark place with all that malice bottled up waiting for the switch to flip.

All I know is the tingling sensation is gone from my flesh and the weight on my shoulders is lighter.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I hear the melody of Ennio Morricone’s harmonica

and I know all has been righted with the world again.

I stash my blade in it’s mental sleeve and I wait patiently for the next time I need to become unhinged.

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