This is a free write, where I closed my eyes and started typing as the lines presented themselves.  I didn’t have anything in particular in mind I was being deprived of so it’s generic; at the same time the object of denial is important enough to elicit the stream:

Force field goes up in the linings of my skull.

Can’t won’t think as the tired tape recorder will click on.

Wait. Let it rest there. It isn’t happening.

The possibility hasn’t been entertained. Inconceivable. Wtf?

I should have known better

to believe fairness and what’s right would happen.

Breathing is deep and labored.

Teeth and jaw gritting.

Pressure building in the attic of my skull.

Want to run.

A knife materializes in my hand

and I want to plunge it deep into the soft spot

just under my rib cage.

Don’t think don’t think.

The rationalizer in charge will start

with its theories and theories

in this case don’t mean diddly.

Especially conspiracy theories.

Paranoid conspiracy theories.

So easy too easy to blame others for this.

There will be no entertaining the thought

that it’s my fault I was denied.

Is there a middle way between?

I’m sick of this sickly mushy middle ground.

It’s ugly grey and clings

like marshmallow quicksand.

Do I have to face it

if I can’t blame it on someone else

or beat myself up about it?

What does detachment and walking away look like?