Guilt is a “wet” thing.

Guilt is a “wet” thing.
Fluid, spreading out fast before it can be contained.
It runs, to one thing, then another. As thoughts come.
It does no good to deny it; if it is not acknowledged.

Absorbing, sponge like, ready to be squeezed out later.
Building in both insignificance or vastness, unseen.
Depth is the aversion to fear! Guilt feds fear.


Guilt is abstract, metamorphosing into something that hides,
Seemingly unidentifiable... seemingly gone!
Guilt is denied, and that is its power.
It drowns you if you do not swim fast enough.

It forces compulsive split second reactions.
Out of one’s desired character, to one that lacks balance.
But there you are! Hiding “it” from yourself...
Guilt is a jail of one’s own making.
When there is nothing to be guilty of.