Catharsis

I sit here waiting to check out

 

Waiting, indulging

My stomach tying knots

My bowel untying them

Fried breakfast and two coffees?

Or imminent return, inevitable fights?

I beat myself to pulp over thoughts of disloyalty,
cultural superiority

Yet I know what I left behind, and why

Mam, the microcosm

I watched it all, horrified, from Madrid and recognised the traits

They sickened me and saddened me

I’m qualified, you see

I’d just forgotten

 

There was something wrong before my cases crossed the door

A veneer worn away

Carefully constructed subterfuge in disarray

Invited in, a crisis of identity: what am I? What is she?

Unravelling of history: old sleights, offences
bared in all their tangled subjectivity

A reprise of madness, futility and weariness
where the reason to continue has been lost

 
It's time to drag my baggage through these corridors of peace until the next time

Would that I could open up the sluice

Scream and cry and kick and beat the floor

Catharsis

Is this why I weep in auditoriums?

 

This, my stream of consciousness as time ticks to checking out