It happens uncontrollably.
But perhaps... systematically.
I try and try and try to hide it
I push it aside
Place it on the back burner
But it's still cooking, not out of mind
It's scent is filling the kitchen
Soon the whole house is consumed by it
Even me. Even I am consumed by it.
I huff and I puff. I feel it nearing --
NO! I push it aside. I hold it back.
Bar the doors.
I point to the ''No Solicitors'' sign in the window
I'm not this kind of person.
Mr. Hyde, please, please you're not welcome here
Go far, far away.
I push it down.
Below.
Below my skin
My Gut.
It's there. hidden.
...hidden...
It comes back, rushing, roaring, unexpected.
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Run away.
Run as fast as you can.
It's not me.
It's not who I am.