Rivaled Opinions

My mind filled with thoughts, these torturous remembrances of past events.
My mind screaming in pain wanting it all go away with simple suppression.
A build-up is blocking as a sin is building  and a child is moaning in fear.
It builds ever so slowly; higher and higher it rises billowing out smoke and exhaust.

Lying there to remove hair from a face shining with sweet memories.
A smaller sickle of what your leader uses; the sign of good old death himself.
It sparkles like a morning star lying there with an invisible crooked smile
Twisting your expression into something grimmer.
Your eyes survey the room hoping to see someone in your vision
To help you, to stop you, to suppress your only feeling.
The feeling of a release that you’ve wished for almost a year
Building slower and slower still waiting for the day you explode.

Another contradiction builds its fingers around your mind.
Your membranes ignorant to fact of its newest blockade.
Your reason is spewing how much you can deal with it,
While your common sense is fueling your pathological addiction.
Its whines at you, telling you it’ll hate you, it wants you more
Than you crave it yourself. It slips into your fingers through quiet release
Watching as your quivering hands shake the world of your insides.
Just one you think, just one and you’ll stop.
Only one, just one and you seem so set in that one motion.


As it slides closer and closer, your reason begins to get the better of you.
“Stop before you regret it, I’ll make you suffer it more than the pain.” Reason muses.
“Come on, Come on, I can make you feel so much better.”  It recites.
“You won’t ever be the same again, back in the old ways, pathetic.
You’re simply becoming pathetic; these thoughts are only thoughts,
simple pathological ideas. You’re addicted. Your addiction,
You just love this liar’s contradiction. “ Reason replies.
“You know you love me. Does reason help you through?
Do these thoughts disappear when you think? They only get harder.
They’re building and reason is the cause; building higher than any factory
Processing your misery on thousands of identical convey belts” It roars.
“I’ll watch yourself as you regret it, I’ll make you regret it.” Reason muses.

Body convulsing and my mind argues over a simple question.
Hands drop my sweet prince as it slowly falls to the ground.
In slow motion, like in an imaginary film reel, it drops.
It drops and I can see the angry, the fury on its face.
The sharpened expression on how I’m getting closer to the edge.
How I was so close to the edge that I almost, I almost made a river.
My mind never stops, always moving, with these torturous thoughts.
Will they ever stop?