Iceberg Ahead

 
It’s the visible portion of the iceberg ahead that I’m not worried about.
That part is easy to maneuver around. But what lies underneath is the
scary part, that portion is bigger and it goes deep. Above the surface I
watch my mouth, I keep to my decorum. I was taught to be respectful
because if I don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at
all. So I suppress and suppress and to my surprise I bury it deep, but in
my sleep I hear the words I want to say. By day I keep to my etiquette,
but at night there’s a dark silhouette urging to spout like it’s Tourette’s.
The restraints are hard to keep in check, the meds, the threads are
unraveling slowly, like the iceberg’s underwater portion, it’s trying
to flip and come up to the surface. Then I feel the fuel, it’s inviting
me, it’s exciting to let loose and lose all control. My soul feels the
tear at the foundation, breaking right down the middle, and I teeter
on the edge with anticipation wanting to see it turnover, over and over.
I gave it a voice, a twin, an antonym to help me deal like another eye
in the Gemini, but the battle between him and I is steadily tearing apart
at the seams.