Undercover Operation

He chafes the prayer beads against his wrist Has died lesser deaths of exasperated rage It’s not forgiveness he seeks but purifying anger To feel the rawness of emotion he focusses On undefeatable loss and zealous slaughter Of cross fires approaching target practice A peaceful man and oft discerned by thoughts In overthinking modes of analytical destruction The old warrior aims to unleash condensing fury ‘I want to feel the hurt’ and so he turns inside For considerate vivisection and careful attribution Selects a modus operandi to excise the pain Rips off the bandages and washes ointment from Years of contained and preordained resilience And resolves that ceasefires of mind must stop Turns off the light to engage with boiling darkness Plugs his ears and braves an onslaught of deaf voices As cacophony and synaesthesia fuel the silent bellow Once iron will is hot and set on scalding blisters he confronts Injustices and ravenous beasts of incinerating prey head on At last they fall on his scalpel once boiling point is reached To remind himself of the successful operation he chooses not To stitch the gaping injury because he needs encouragement Instead he cauterizes his soul and seals a union with himself 16th December 2019