The rage makes me soar.
It Isn’t even about something important
it just hit that impulse in me.
The realisation of executing something I am not particularly willing to do struck me -on this occasion -in the form of weariness.
The buzz of the rails and the voices laughing in front of me snaps me back into place.
It would be pompous to claim it was an out of body experience. It seemed more like absentmindedness. Like forgetting to breathe in a moment of shock.
Only there was no shock.
The rage overrides the most basic instinct of survival. looking at the face in the mirror and smashing it with hands and forehead till it all turns red…
I almost did it.