Ptsd

The battlefield within a swirling whirlpool of delayed rage comes at last for the inner child voice screaming .... why? Why soul murderer father, mother, uncle, brother priest, doctor, three-piece suit creeper incest keeper tide breaker... Mind curtain masks the unsettled soul-body certain of sound that trigger flows in the dark. Pictures swirling syphon through a membrane of synapses power deafening thoughts that scatter waves. Breathe, breathe the wave memory-locked baggage traveling from its horror cave into tomorrows hope of healing. PTSD ... oh how sweet silent will the Silence of Heaven be, and will I know it when I get there?