Consciousness' stream

Batters sensibility.

Defies any logic of control.

Mind-channel's pelt through anxious nonsense.

Respite remote.

Unattainable.

Peace a distant thought,

Foreign land. And there is no place to hide.

No breakwater, behind which

cowering folk

find lulling calm.

This torrent is totality,

whose subject matter

majors upon all those memories,

situations and circumstances,

which provide ammunition.

Blunt instruments smashed against sanity's tower.

Sharp insights fired at battlements

behind which security, sanctuary and confidence

lie long forgotten in ancient, urgent siege.

Tranquility.

Craved and sought in seclusion.

Seclusion from everyday folk offering platitudes that mean nothing.

Expose shallow non-interest;

perfunctory acknowledgement of their own ignorance.

Even from those folk genuine - interested; helpful.

My time is mine to suffer.

To beat myself through mind-chatter I can't control.

Prove my worthlessness.

Acknowledge my uselessness.