and wasn't that what it was all about?
getting what was coming to you.
that's just what i want.
i want what's coming to me.
but just what is it?
i feel it coming.
coming around again
coming over like a storm again.

the way you feel the moisture hanging in the air,
heavy and hot in the month of august,
the hour before a downpour.

i feel it,
coming again,
growing back like a second scab
when the first has been picked off in delighted disgust.

clinging to my skin like a singlet of sweat on a july night
(a night when you untangle yourself from the sheets
and lie sprawled out like a horizontal cartwheeler,
watching the fan mosey along in a daze.)

my nails are longer.
i know why.
i have subconsciously allowed them to drip into the white,
hard and long as an instrument of torture
with which to reprimand my wanting arms.

i hear things.

i hear my name being whispered,
called,
screamed while i am being herded down those bloody halls.
i hear the wind whistling through the trees
when the night is barren and still.
i hear thumping.
the thumping.

i cry less.
i curse more.

my mouth is dry and my tongue is thick.
my voice is lower and cracks.
cracks like when you snap a dead branch on your knee.
crack.

i find that my right hand shakes
even more uncontrollably than usual.

i smile less,
and any smile that does escape is a large, toothy, fool's grin
that melts almost instantaneously.
and my default face is a frown.
a grimace.

i feel myself growing less amiable
and more detestable
with every passing second.

i feel an urge to begin smoking again.

my words decrease rapidly,
and the volume of my voice
seems forever tempted to hibernate solely at its extremes-
breathy whispering or hoarse shrieking.

my patience is always spent but i rarely show it.

i, instead, choose to bottle it up inside
and wait for some poor fool to shake me...
so i can spew out my fury
in a mist of vehement vulgarity and violence.
then i would be dropped as unwanted to the ground,
dropped to the ground and cursed at for being so damn defective.

is that what i deserve?
i'm beginning to think so.