PTSD Status Quo

Collecting cattle then distributing them along a thin line, watching them stand-tall as buildings, buildings that etch their falling way back into shadow, from whence they came, where dark enshrouds all things, the womb, unconsciousness, the paralytic state. Waking up in a scream, the ages of what haven’t been integrated haunt the seams of psychology. History has pounded a way into denial and ignorance has cast aside tonality to assure the generality of a decision silence always requires a commercial. Breaks occur when no one is looking, like now, and then suddenly a flash of someone re-appears, identity in place of the chair.