Tonight, blow drying my hair in the dim light of a lamp,
I gave into the chaos of thought.
Something I don't dare test.
The words building images.
Images that I wish I could shut my eyes before I see them.
But when my eyes close that's where they play more vividly.

In these moving pictures, my mind creates.
I see myself silent.
Angry but silent.
I never reach out for hands.
I prefer my own.

So many times I've had to catch myself.
Hold myself.
Pick myself up and try again.
So many times I fell,
Dropped myself back to the floor.
Didn't bother to try again.
My own body is too heavy for me.

I won't say still for long,
I can't.
The demanding inside my skull,
I can't be rid of it.
I doubt I will be rid of it.
It would be a shame if I did have the chance to mute it.
It's the gasoline to my flames.
It hurts because it burns.
But the scars have grown on me.
With stories I will likely never tell.

Do you think inside chaos?
It feels like an art sometimes.
Just make sure it doesn't turn into the artist.
Control it
Control it.
If you must live with it,
Do not become it.

-ACCLIVITY series
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