I flick the lighter on and off nervously.
The scratching echolalia is deafening in the stillness.
Flick. Hiss. Flick. Hiss.
The metal cap feels like the only heat for a great radius in space and time.
The cracks in the gravel under my feet hold salvation.
Moonlight drowns visible heaven and thinly covers the ground.
Wet and silvery, it will freeze my blood.
In the far distance, a soft rushing sounds.
A glow rises behind a hill in the road, and headlights pop over the summit.
My pulse picks up, I tread backwards, thumb extended.
Tires slow, crackling.
"Where to?"

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Lowered eyes reflect the fear
She feels that others see the pain
She tries to hide to mask the shame.

Shame of what she has become
Despite her efforts to succumb
To good intentioned, sound advice
Delivered at preposterous price.

Shame at how the mind deplores
Those temperamental personal flaws,
Of slights inferred and insults hurled
At friend and foe with flag unfurled.

Friend and foe who tried to help,
Who lowered guard  to feel the welt
Of verbal horsewhip to the jowl,
To violently recoil with howl.

Betrayal in its basest form
All sympathetic help withdrawn.
She furiously stands distraught
In isolation’s cold white thought.

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Of distain for the eyes that jeer,
Direction of the darts of blame
From whence no help will come again.

Marshalg
Collateral damage
4 February 2012