Bubble of Conflict

Wrapped in plastic
This History has become, celophane.
Indeed awareness is useful
But what, pray tell, is the answer?
Awareness rids me of nothing
I am merely made all the more defunct
In the aftermath of acknowledgement.
Heat to melt?
But there is no logic there-in
Melted and boiling would then fuse to my skin
More discomfort, molting in, instead of away.
Meanwhile, this pondering is nearing uselessness.
I suffocate under the admonission that more contemplation brings
This is not imagined; I lived these slimy, uncontrollable que's
What 'pawning off' of insecurities made this transference- legal?
For someone has been offended here, in this stark & brightly lit confinement.

Continually fucked by the passing off of inadequacy that was not my own
This is a grave business, discerning who's at fault,
And yet, what gain in more assignment?
Will the toxic wafting odor of blame, rescind this banishment from kindness?

So self-aware, and selfless
This is madness to define
But if I don't-
Only further offending.
Why do I continually give a shit to blur these borders
With logic, sense, understanding, or intelligence?
Truth is,
Life is fucked when the meddling we loathe
Whether administered once or forever
Originates from those that our blood demands we trust.