Poison enters my life stream tonight, slick as a knife, cool as metal settles into my veins. The quick desecration of ego slits a quick nick in self perception. It never seems to hurt at first, always over-estimating the ability to 'handle the truth.' Yet it haunts. And as the thought lingers and stains the brain around it, all you have left is an ink stained mind with the words of condescension. Blood boils with frustration of the... truth? Flaws explode on the screen behind my eyes and parade through every word. Truth? A truth. Someone's truth.
And as the ink flows through my fingers and into pixels on the page, I breath. I reason. I ration. I think. I sink into relative calm. The peace from before will not be gotten for a length to come, but for now, rest. For now, rest.