Thursday, February 19, 2009


I scream and you yell. It escalates and tempers rage. One of us sinks low and makes a stab, pushes that button we know will take this one step too far. And we can't stop.
We try to put on the brakes but emotions are high and now it is way beyond the point of no return. The madness in your eyes tells me this is no argument but a full blown, knock down, drag out fight to the finish.

Your arm is thrown wide and the hand on a wild orbit from your person comes careening towards my face. I grab your forearm and throw you backwards. A kick to the midsection as you stumble makes sure you don't get your footing back.

Now we feel silly and childish, but more than that you feel humiliated and that taps into every embarrassing moment, every failure, every second of your life that was wrong and degrading. And now, I am every enemy. More than that, I am the very essence of everything that makes you feel inferior and weak and dumb and sad and alone in this misbegotten universe.

So, you slip into bezerker mode and claw your way through the air between us, enraged and insane, eager to get your hands around my throat and squeeze, you're about to engage me with your muderous intent.

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