We all have demons we struggle with. Fear of them taking control. And sometimes they do. And sometimes it feels good after we’re done with our fear.

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Pained finger. Cracks and snaps. Deep breaths to get over it. Get it over with. Nausea at the pit of my stomach. Monstrous transformation I’ve undergone. Malice I begun with. Could use a gun, but the pop would make it too real. I don’t want to run. Craving the numbness.
Tight grip, I squeeze. Thought bubbles surface. Words in silence. Boiling water hides the violence. Struggles to keep inside. Hopes to hide. Hopes to die. Tears roll down red eyes. Lingering moments that don’t go by. Branded images. Back of the mind. Persistent twists of liquid mist obscuring things. Rage filled. Caged and ill. Killed will power. Standing still, towers, tall build. Showers of blood ripple. Screaming “enough.” Chilled spine. Raised hairs. Tunnel vision. Blinded sight. Regrets but no want to fight. Sensations that feel right to relieve the pint up aggression. Repression released in the middle of…