In the eye of the maelstrom I found myself. As the torrent of pain surrounded me from all sides. I began to rip torrents into tradewinds and I rode on that agony to new seas. my memory is clouded by the fog, but i search for familiar seas.

I took the core of my suffering out with a pen; with shakey hands I cut with my own words.
gusts of air left my lungs.
I danced for strangers to watch my blood fall. I medicated with carnival tickets and white girls to ease out of winter into spring. I relished in working till my bones bruised, and I still felt empty from it all. because it's empty and lonely in the eye of the storm. I realized that the wind that blows through my hair is apart of me. it is me. That every wave that dares knock me topside. is just someone i've grown to hate. and as my hate grows, the waves grow higher, and as I'm consumed with wrath, the wind blows harder. but i know now. through all the pain and torment. that I am the storm. and if I make it to land, reckoning is upon it. but if i'm to sink to the bottom of the sea I hope no one is hurt for it.