Friday, September 30, 2011

Rasher of bacon anyone?

Rage. It melts away at me like i have become victim to an acid spill. I can't control it, i can't even reach it. It is untouchable.
Its instincts is to squash the merrily on high, burning inside bubbling away waiting to spit at anything that resembles joy. It spits like a slither of bacon on a frying pan.
It is eating away at me like i am a chocolaty crunchy biscuit, savouring every bite. Its taste buds tantalised.
This rage is an itch i can't scratch. It consumes me when it rears its ugly head.
I am on a slippery slide and i have no way of stopping. I have nothing to cling to to slow the speed of decline.
I have to hurt inside, I can't let it out in fear of it being let loose to spread its evil. I must sit on the burning pot, no matter how hot it gets, i musn't let open the lid. I don't want others to suffer the deamons of this acid spill.
It feels like a bullet that has been released by the trigger, there is no pulling it back.
I let this thing that is poisen destroy me, it makes me ill i'm sure. Without this inward direction of the bullet i believe i would be free of the pain and suffering. Only how do you redirect the bullet?

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