A rebel without a clue.

The Earth sighs deep relief, Yet today I am exhausted! Suffering a separate malady, While the old enemy strikes, My pointless hands grasp space, (Praying away a weapons thrust) Or I'm lost! Within a formless version, During a faint day, On hearing a formless chatter, Disregarding my soliloquy, It's back. Between the truth and the death.

We've done this to ourselves, And everything loving! Over a thousand creases woven, But not so blinded behind the Caricature, in a fantastic show! We're not fair, nor equal and never just! Inside me a battle persists Between truly being honest And lying forever to my essence And I don't know why! But I know I want it finished. Perpetual and turning back On myself relentless. Turn this scorning frown inside To display an illusion Where speaking fails. Now I feel lost again, Battling unnecessarily, An imposter, I must relieve From perculiar perch - Most predicable, and Being knocked off, Firmly and hopefully Beyond restitution.

The demon escaped the bottle last night It did it's worst, attacking those I love, For no reason other than Ego. Even while I could see this other 'me' out of control: It was like watching someone else operate My mind, without finesse, And it was perculiar to be aware  These actions and blunt words  Came from a source other than me. ... While I am trying to stay focused during these difficult times, on Tuesday the other pattern in me surfaced and blew off into the path of those, this "most angry" secondary persona, most likes to swing for. Wednesday was a day of feeling bad for the things I said, which came from a source I wish to be free from. This morning I'm awake early and the wave of attack has vanished. Phew. This isolation is going to be very tough, but it's forced me to see the flat in Little London as my home: there is nowhere to run to while Leeds Homes (Leeds Council) website is off line anyway. Currently I have a place to retreat to and be at p...