Once again, we meet at the end of my decisions.
Quick thinking turned into reactions
That place me back at the scene of the crime.
My head, this wall.
I rush into verbal combat,
Not looking to understand or be understood.
I focus only on the goal at hand, to conquer our exchange of words.
This game of tennis with the alphabet, I must be the victor.
You give me your thoughts, your years and experiences.
I counter with skilled precision and statistics,
Hoping to crush you, not the problem.
I have won, but nothing’s solved.
My head, this wall.
This feeling, this pain, this discomfort in my comfort.
I’m afraid to let go all I know.
Keeps me together while pulling me apart from everybody.
But I just.  Can’t.  Stop.
My head, this wall, my way, must have it.
I refuse to do anything different, but what I do does nothing for me.
So what do I do when I refuse to change?
My head, this wall.
Bang, bang, bang.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.   Brandon Stewart is a poet and performer of spoken word.  He can be contacted at:
Brandon Stewart #231024
010-2-2L
Pendleton Correctional Facility
4490 West Reformatory Road
Pendleton, IN 46064