It goes round and around, never leaving me alone. I can't drink enough to shut it off that way. As he said: 'sometimes we need to park the damn thing.' If I stop, I know what happens -The sickness, the jealousy. 'GIVE ME A VENT' I scream. Everyone turns around to look. They understand, but they don't know how to say it. They know how to stop it, but I'm not interested in that. I don't want the distraction, the meaningless prose. I want to beat it all. To beat them all. I want this sickness to transpire into a sentence more violent than a cold steel bar to the base of the neck. I want the guilt to evolve into a sentence more emotive than any tears all of the conformists have ever shed. I want this lack of faith to breed into a sentence that stops you all, and in that silence you will realise that moment is mine. It is yours as well, because I finally became good enough to give something back. Why do i do this? Because I still don't have the courage to face what happens when I stop.