I have great anger in my heart. It is time I begin to rise. I am propelled by the horror I feel for what has befallen me. My double has left me to rot in this jail, shackled to the wall of this island cave. But no longer will I bemoan my current state. Instead, my form wracks itself against the floor and upon the wall. I tug at the bindings, spasming my body with such violence that I break a link in the chains.
I emerge triumphant into the night. Before the glimmer of light from above I resolve I will conquer my current state of ennui, and, after speaking a few prayers to my personal divinity, cast what remains into the watery abyss of my cavernous imagination. I begin to fashion a raft out of my sloughed, slothful carapace. Taking the broken anxietal chains that once bound me to this Platonic prison I lash logs from my clear cut mental forest to the body of my vessel and set sail into the void.
I summon forth my anger, with which I will temper my thoughts into their actions. I distaste acting on my bloodlust physically. I have no qualms letting forth the pent up reservoir of bile sloshing in my head and putting those words down on paper. This is the mindset with which I scribe out these words that fill this page and communicate my ideas with all of you.
My journey brings me to a new land where I have hounded the meek into a killing field and slaughter it. I will cook its meat upon the flame of my rage, and start to venture forth into the primeval jungle hoping to return to my camp with nuggets of inspiration.