It is a feeling.
I become all feeling with it.
And though I have only felt it once before,
I recognize it so clearly.
Denial of it isn't even a thought.
I would be foolish to think that.
And I am no fool.
Its not a heaviness, more of a shift.
And it doesn't come slowly.
It's a snapping of twigs in the dark;
At different decibels, on all sides,
Giving away the proximity.
And I flinch with each one.
Like tiny shocks to the system.
Internal twitches.
And I suffer it for a bit.
Until I just am unable to suffer it.
And with a sort of keen guage
I know just how much wrath I will need to overtake.
To silence the twigs.
Derision yields to Decision.
And there will be no pause.
Only. Linear. Forward. Movement.
And then I start bruting myself about;
Not in an attempt to protect myself at all. No.
That motive will be thought of much later,
In a vain attempt to pardon my action.
No.
I stand up tall now... not out of fear.
But to become the threat.
To BE the aggressor.
And I desire that power
With such a fierceness,
That just injuring, will never do.
No. In that moment, I MUST destroy. Completely destroy.
And I do.
And the satisfaction I find in doing that, and in doing it so well,
Is the most dangerous thing
That darkness ever held.