We tend to avoid things that can cause us pain.
If we are afraid to be wounded,
then why do we break hearts?

-
I will deafen my soul to the chords
of discord.
-

I wanted to scream
To ease the pain
I wanted to cry
To let it out
I hate to admit it
But I wanted to die
I want this to stop
To stop being sad
To stop being stuck
To stop becoming I avoid to be

This atheistic, intelligent, liberal minded
     nonestablishmentarian
     christened Matthew
Scott Harris, haint gotta clue,

     how bias, discrimination,
     prejudice didst brew
within me noggin admitting to myself,
     (that though tolerant

     towards most other people)
     amidst variegated hue
mankind cutting crew,
I can not wholeheartedly dislodge un argue

ably the stubborn presence
     of disagreeably unwanted notions,
     an effort quite few
     till to expunge, though not clearly

     delineated against gentile nor Jew
the latter encompassing
     my genealogical lineage
     (as ye probably knew)

though acute awareness exists
     that objectionable thoughts
     towards others coalesced and grew,
sans initial aural, sensational,

     and visual perceptions did ensue
from nearly imperceptible
     germinal, ephemeral, and casual
     brief interactions, thy amygdala and,

     posterior cingulate cortex
     (PCC) instantaneously drew
     nearly nsync with a single blink
     of thine myopic left or right human eye

     (which average duration 0.1 to 0.4 seconds,
     or 100 to 400 milliseconds)
     forged an unconscious initial mount'n view
clocked in at 100 milliseconds

     or 328.0839895013123 feet per second
pointing asper an expert mason
     hermetically sealing a psychic impression
     ala mortise and tenon

     amalgamated conglomerate
     enterprise glommed zoo
wool logical imprimatur difficult,
     but not impossible loo
sin and/or completely dislodge
     neurological hullabaloo.

I knew in that moment
that I must run out into the darkness
and find a way
that even the streetlights avoid.
Find a place with no roads
where flowers of new season
will hide my unsure steps.
I knew I had to run away
Or I will never be the same.
So that I don’t loose everything
I (almost) have.
I must run back to that house in wilderness
that I left behind,
to the life I left behind.
So that there are no more graves
of my loved ones
with my name as the murderer engraved.