PTS-me

I don't know what to say about it

Neck deep in some
unseen rubble;
Burning up in some
internal fire.
Drowning in the white
waters of his own rage..
He stared a vacant
stare that could never
give light - only drink it
like a barren desert
growing desperate
for a few drops of rain..
That kind of fearful,
disgusted stare can
only look inward
toward the stinging
remorse and
distorted memories -
never peering out into
the suger-coated
sub-reality (the
monotonous practice
of day-to-day living) -
his vision obscured by
the traumatic scenes
of a nightmarish movie
playing in repetition -
bearing down on his
consciousness and
becoming all the more
vivid and consequential.
The contrast of her
soft-spokenness seems
to mock him - and so
his rage is misplaced
far from her favor.