Sunday, July 12, 2020

The Troubled Boy


what happens when a good kid begins to act out? it’s a sign something has triggered him. he yells over things. he has become withdrawn. we're eager to discover the plague. such ailments such fret where freedom permits for investigation. the boy is short-tempered, defensive, aggressive, or unruly while difficult. we sense something keen; for the boy was once agreeable, pleasant, even helpful. it becomes a project. we start with parents. if but to learn the boy’s routine. we ask about other people in his life. we try to account for when the behavior was vivid. after studying the dynamics, we put a peg into why the behavior has showed up.     what if no one evaluates the troubled behavior, where the boy in left in the situation, where it started at six while it carried over into adult life? or something captivating: the boy is nice when around most people, but acts out around his trigger.     it’s much by silence, or a person’s conundrum, while we’re prone to dislikes. such a hypersensitive creature. while ‘normal vessels’ just grimace when confronted by discomfort.     the perfect specimen. if but to unlock his dungeon. where conflict is prized.     the boy is creative, even an artist, while calm, otherwise, pleasant, but distant, watchful, quick to sense disruption, or an obvious intake machine.     one needs answers while intent on a belief where the boy isn’t comfortable; but he sits, he’s quiet, while analyzing chaos. the trigger is intimate, it’s ubiquitous, it mingles throughout existence. it can’t be conquered. it will not sleep. it’s appealing to myriads.     he goes inward he searches caves where he locates his sphinx. something is operating. he learns not to act out. he just deals while feeling uneasy. such to respond to questions while eager to vamoose where others are feeling discontent. it seems responsibility, as to assess correctly, where he does not care so much. people are watching the moon is watching where pain is sensitive.     he never meets standards. it seems arbitrary. but he depicts something unique.           

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...