"Oh. It's going to be a quiet, slow-burning seethe. Disappointment."

(yes, I hunted through the 6th season to find that exact quote for this particular entry)

There are so few things on this planet that inspire this kind of feeling in me. Labor camps, pestilence, incurable diseases and like-sounding boy bands are low on the scale for the feeling I'm talking about.

It's that eruption of choked passion that bubbles to the surface despite days (months, even) of desperately holding it back. It's like a backfiring gun, causing a horrible backlash with all of its potential energy finally releasing without the wielder's input.

The initial invasion is an acidic one that slowly eats away at the hapless victim's insides until there's nothing left- just a congealed mass of once-working innards, weighing down on the lower extremities.

Just when the acid has had its fill, and you think there's nothing left of the anguish and the tyrannical pain, another wave of nausea sets in. Though unwelcome, we can't fault the nausea because it is our psyche's only coagulant. It is trying to stop the fountain of proverbial blood that just happens to be trickling merrily from our every proverbial orifice.

When it all finally stops, it's because we've gone to bed. We let our nightmares reset the torment so that the next morning is brighter and healthier than what can only be referred to as "The Moment;" the trigger that caused the gun to backfire; the Trojan Horse that allowed the horrors to invade our tranquility and shit all over it.

I guess that's one thing our nightmares are good for. They force us to stop holding things back, even while we sleep. They're the cold machines that drill holes in beaver dams for the shiny, plastic shopping malls that we all become when we're destroyed by culprits like love. Security. Infatuation. Happiness.

In keeping with my melodramatic analogies that poke fun at the industrial world, I'll part ways with my keyboard by saying this:

Sometimes I wish I could just let my nightmares terrorize me until mankind figures out how to remove silly, inefficient emotions like the ones I listed above. I would much rather be made of steel.