For once I feel illuminated, liberated, iridescent.

I sense my low, dejected spirits have
Finally succumbed to the jocular nature
Which resides in my psyche.

Hateful sentiments float away
As black bubbles of negative memorandum
Of weeks quondam and unremembered.

A release comes through clockwork.

After the initial shock it hurt like hell itself
Picked me up in its spindly, flaming fingers
And flung my wretched subconscious
Through eight staggering blades of betrayal
“Et tu, Brute?”

For weeks I have picked up my shattered gasps
Tears ultimately cease, and I inhale

The crisp October breeze.