the perils of human paranoia

living behind the veil 

and within the wardrobe 

of reality's thought-form dress code,

there is this demure of logic,

a perfunctory of assumption

as to the rights of thought

and the privilege of thinking them.

but once brought out 

into the spoken world,

reaction for some 

becomes the PTSD symptoms 

of personalized reflection.

is it the thoughts of themselves

or is it the weight of the collective 

of people knowing?

what of thought, as supposedly private,

was a safe environment 

for personal insanity to sprout and live,

but when brought 

to the collective's awareness,

is a tsunami of fear arising, 

for some of the individual participants.

for there are no swimming lessons provided

for living in this 

as a stressful sea of existence.

the unconscious energetics 

released into presence

are unfounded for some 

to personally experience.

the bandwidth of internal range, for some,

is beyond the capacity of others 

to sensibly grasp,

when once presented 

into the outcry of the pubic domaine.

these inferences 

into the privacy of peoples' thought process

are unprecedented 

in shared public language ways.

some minds' capacity to comprehend

are plundered by the message 

and beyond their means,

beyond the outer limits of accepted as cruel,

and beyond the possible discussion 

of inhumane.

for some, how can think work that way?

the emotional parley in exchange 

is incomprehensible

with concepts that are not mutually shared.

each one's position, 

is in contempt of the other,

but there is no language to speak 

to the emotional burdens 

being cast back and forth.

the rhetoric is symbolic 

of deeper pain in reserves.

unaddressables, as emotional scars 

that never heal

but reek of energetic reactionary positions untouched,

as in the reactionary complexity 

of the unconscious ultimately channeled, 

as in charged,

as in, please feel my pain, 

even if just by a sample taste of it.

some humans run deep with the unsayable

and even deeper 

with the otherwise unthinkables.

we all don't share 

the same discourse capacity.

frightful, in sounding ways, 

scares the bejesus in others.

mental health is awkward 

in certain situations.

the shared learning curve 

is misshaped radically.

meaning is carried 

with a slap in the face delivery.

but the real truth of the moment 

never really surfaces.

for there are so many layers 

of emotional discord,

that seem to need delivery

before any collective truth can reappear,

that the topics always remain 

acidic as voiced

and no common tone of voice 

is ever reached.

that is both exclamatory in its revulsion 

and seething in its silence in between.

for there is no heart of the matter revealed,

just positions taken 

and hurls to be launched.

if the heal-card is ever to be played,

then someone has to reshuffle the deck

and deal from a different perspective 

on topic.

as it is for now,

exclamatory will never become a hymn

and silence of this kind

will never find gold . . .