Woke up this morning with that familiar feeling again.
It’s irritating, it’s rude,
this feeling has no respect at all.
Rocks up whenever it pleases,
starting at the base of my stomach,
working it’s way sadistically to my mind.
This is only the beginning mind you…
foreplay.

It’s reached my mind
I know cannot avoid it.
I can’t “breath slowly and count to ten” it away;
I cannot “meditate and align my chakras” for it to be gone.
Not even the river of denial
that flows through my conscious
can wash it away and purge my memory of it.

So what do I do?
I write!
I write to expose it,
tell on it to the page I’m writing on.

Why does it scare me though?
If I am feeling it
does it mean it is of me?
A feeling so dark,
heavy,
anxious,
angry,
sad,
resentful.