There is that feeling again.

A strange sort of pent up, bent up, coiled up feeling that boils inside.  Almost like a breath waiting to be released, yet no amount of exhaling gets rid of it.  It sits there like lead in your chest.  Sits there feeling ready to explode, ready to pounce, volatile in it's subdued violence.  I think of the dreams that visit me.  The silly strange oddities.  How I figured out existence with a simple equation.  And how that simplicity was perfect for the boundless complexities that life happens to have. 
I've talked about situations that visit me, as much as I visit them and attempt to diffuse the tricky situation.  It works at times.
At other times i'm left as i am now, with only time and anything I can fill it with there to hold on to.

I let it all uncurl, uncoil, diffuse.