Things found in life's corners...

Hurt.

a knife twisting in your solar plexus
churning your insides with all its

sharpness.

of reality and its acrid sting. But, left there too long, it becomes all too familiar, a part of the being

now, so integral, that it gets increasingly difficult to recognise it, to perceive it.

what remains is a dull ghost of that which swept your consciousness for the first time.
the blinding pain

the fiendish rage

the life changing quality...
turn a paler hue by the turn.

and the knife-edge, progressively dulled; almost sickeningly comfortable

hurt.