Touchstone

 Pain.

Lots of pain.

Constant pain... 

anger. No. Rage. Rage glittering down my arms, running through my hair,

my skin contracting, expanding, not fitting... 

I don't fit. I can't contain the ME in this feeble skin manikin.

My pain is a live wire just waiting for an opportunity to 

Jump to its next victim.

Please don't let me connect to you right now.

You're the reset I need 

The vision of who I can be at my best.

Don't let me blast away my touchstone.

(image is Wild Woman Riding a Unicorn', by Master from the Amsterdam Cabinet, 1475)