raven loon

Is there a conspiracy about me? I have to know. Are there plotters behind me, whispers in the dark? Do knives get whetted by murky assistants while assassins plot the action and act? Am I imagining this or does a darkness pursue me, stalk me like some game animal ? Indifferent to the life it takes, as long as it is taken and the mission is complete.

I can think of no good reason. I have crossed only a few in my lifetime, and none meriting retribution of this significance. Who are you?... and What do you want from me?

The whisperers hiss between them ...longing, laughing, readying for restitution. While I grow restless, questioning the attribution.

Or does this exist in my own mind. Is this some tangled mass of brain protein, some bruised or battered grey matter, an illness or injury? Is this a paranoia brought on by medication – some psycho-pharm-nightmare? Am I breaking down or cracking up?

tango finito