Deflection

There is a whirling of color- impressions and pulses of raw being- -unidentifiable- - intangible - shards that wiggle and pulse through a cortex of subconscious just invisible to my knowing. I am raw. A sieve for the experiences I can not name. A building of thunderclaps and swells. Give me release. Give me not this irrational deflection twirling definitves with misinterpretations. Give me acute sorrow, that I can name. Give me the source of anger so I can rage- let the fire burn to embers and mourn the smoke that clouded my foresight. Give me wisdom before I repeat all my errors.