Swift rivers

Swift rivers drain me. I feel lost and watched. Eyelids flicker as though they battle a frigid rain. A disillusioned expression weighs on me. .
I stop all conscious thinking and listen to the condemning mantra resonate in the deep cavities of my mind. Sporadic violence, heavy breathing, and pure emptiness lay down around me as voices from another era escape from my internal prison to preach to me upon the virtues of desperation.
In concert they speak in a familiar tongue when they say, “Happiness will never search you out. Aspirations weren’t made for you. Dreams are made for other parent’s children, for they leave you exposed as the ugly creature that once lurked in this household.”
It continues, “If have ambitions to rid yourself of my fury then submit and fall once again on resignations sword, this is where you’ll find comfort. This is where you’ll sit protected albeit very aware that you hid from the pains of living a purposeful life.”