The inner maelstrom

The inner maelstrom

By jfarrell


My exterior:

Calm, relaxed; my eyes dart around everywhere,

But only a certain type of person looks for that;

Recognises what it is;

Most people miss it; and the slight tremor;

They just see calm, relaxed.


My interior:

Jumping to giddying heights,

Plummeting to treacherous self-pity;

Burning; freezing;

Wanting to cut your throat,

But wanting hide all feeling, thought of cutting your throat;

Battering your body;

Soaking you in petrol and dropping the match;

Bad jim, can’t feel that

Where’s the knife, the sharp one

Gotta cut, gotta pay, bad thought, gotta pay for that

No, don’t cut you, cut them, they the ones make you hurt

No, no, hide, cut me, I’m here, it’s my fault

I was bad

Hate this fear, this hate, this self pity this never ending


My exterior:

Calm, relaxed;

My smile breaks as I ask

“do you want fries with that, sir?”

I hope I don’t work at your favourite burger bar;

You’ll never know what’s going on behind that smile.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

madness, i say, madness, lock your doors -a storm's a coming

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allets's picture

Very Dark

macabre is a valid form of literature - just very depressing as the shock value fades after so much exposure to what people actually do to each other. I've finished Marco Polo - horses on fire, beheadings...the imagination is a terrible thing when one becomes inured to it and embrace it as entertainment sic Game Of Thornes.