a perfect storm

and then i go insane and fly, fly far off the edge of rational thought. a darkness literally swirls in me, welling into a cacophonous symphony of passionate rage. when i was younger, the outbursts, the swirling hum was more-- often, less-- intense. tempered by frequency and immaturity. now, the hurricane and wind are trapped in clever sails, only to be released in a single gale force.

i want to blame my mother.
i want to blame the triggers.
but maybe-

it is something else. the spirit of some unbreakable, wild force dwelling inside. enter therapist. enter Jesus. enter responsibility. enter banality. enter exorcist. no matter.

is it possible for passion and intuition and fire to be passed almost genetically, as if through the blood, from generation to generation. is there some spiritual connection to be tapped into surpassing our own humanality, some intangible wind blustering & breezing through the trees of life, that have marked you from your very making?

you can't see it. you can't touch it. do you want to fix it? could you even? or could you only board up, batten down and prepare for the storm. and who doesn't love

a perfect

storm.