battleground

they pull me in and spin me around, they chatter and scream at one another, they bruise me and shake me untill my teeth rattle loose against my jaw. every single one holds onto some fiber of my existence, inseperatably linked to me at every checkpoint, at every nerve. but they hate me as though they are not of me. oh how the hatred gloats and smirks, pointing and laughing at the horrific irony of the misery they have so much power to inflict.

and yet i am trapped. utterlly trapped by my own thoughts, a slave to their wrenching grip upon my conciousness. how is it that when everything else in life is exactly the way it should be, a simple thought can worm it's way into my conciousness and destroy the whole precarious balance of my hapiness? and then there are the other demons.

these slip in unoticed and take up a residence in the rooms i save only for the best of guests, and there they begin to grow and spread, until they are master of the whole palace. they come and go at will with no warning, they deceive with honney and sweets that disolve when i try to bite down. worst of all they dress in all sorts of disguises, miraging first from one form then to another, so that i never know when it is their handwork i witness or some other force- be it the Almighty force, the thought-demons, or the Evil One.

can i escape what i feel? should i try? is my reasoning sound enough to rely on without the help of wild, untameable, unreasonable, and yet always honest emotions? what would smothering these do? can i offer these to the Almighty? where would that leave me?

together they are at war, sometimes forming alliances with each other and with other powers, sometimes fighting united as sides and teams, forcing me to choose. and there is nothing, nothing that i can rely on inside of me to guide me- nothing at all. there is no third power. just fault fighting fault, deception fighting deception. helpless i grope for something outside of me to silence the battle within, but my fingers curl around weeds that are rooted in sand. searching for the Rock and the endless peace that must be found there, i plunge on, blind and helpless, broken and tearful, but somehow still alive, still hoping, still believing.