waiting for violence

I sit in this chair and wait for violence. It’s not unpleasant, no violence is here right now. But it’s in the air, a tragic miasma, a blend of colors, an edgy disruption in the air of coming violence. If I visualize the forms of violence to be perpetrated on myself, my heart starts to pound. If I turn my thoughts to something else, I feel more relaxed but never unalert. If I align myself with all victims of violence, past, present and future, the hard lines get fuzzier and the waiting easier.

journal entry

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