When the Silver Case Releases the unexpected

I waited.

Some women are not aware of me-you are not one of them-you try to open me-express

me-use me, you feel me more than your physical self.

When something happens that unbalances me or knocks me out of sync with the environment and you are the environment and this is also an environment.

I go crazy.

And for you I am that.

You know that too-others ignore me-they don’t consider outside triggers-not for a

moment.

Somethings bring me into another reality. I love it. Out. Free. In control.Out of control.

You feel me break away.

You are the trigger.

But these are the times you live in,no one has an inkling of mental illness but nothing

about social structure and women. It’s just the way it is.

He thinks it’s a girl thing and he is right I prefer girls-you are more sheltered and brittle and delicate and pigeonholed.

There’s a lot of suppression of girls minds and that’s my favourite prompt, suppression.

Some caring and diversion is society’s answer-that’s good for me-the more you

massage my ego the better- you know better:feeling it from the inside.

You know that’s killing you.

I’m pulling you in, I’m a seismic shift shaper-your art really annoys me as I begin to feel

ignored, you’re releasing me.

He brings you my sturmia bella off to the country-I’m loving it.

Solitude.

A perfect place to hound you, and of course this room you have being settled into, what

more could I want it’s like a lunatic asylum.

Everything about it suits me-bars on the windows and at the top of the house too.

I have you feeling like that already imprisoned, that’s what I do best cage you into

yourself-and look at that wallpaper-now there are mind games waiting to happen.

It’s frenzied yellow vibrant-lively with weird ogling patterns, when I look at these it’s

nothing but capricious.

I’m going to drive you crazy.

I’m only playing with you. I want you.

I am frightening I’m afraid it’s my mad eye look-people do their best around me.

All those scribblings and observations no one can understand them.

I’m left in charge, no one even talks to me.

He doesn’t understand the word stifled, locked up, hemmed in, society has a great way

of doing this to women.

He talks me ( me:king of the castle) over with his colleagues, the idea of you being more

than a body is not considered not for a moment.

He’s home and coming up the stairs and I have sequestered your mind to such an

extent there is no hope now of releasing me.

I’m totally free.

To me you look beautiful: ungovernable.

To him you’re an ungovernable fright.