(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.