Writing exercise/block killer4

'Love me' I say. I shout it quietly but constantly. I will theworld to throw me something, anything, convinced that the smallest scrap would serve to sate some of the vacuum inside. But it never does.
I look up. Across from me is a man. Strange, I hadn't even noticed anyone come in. He reads, obviously waiting for someone. I remember moments of not-so-veiled threats. My shoulders tense..more than they already have been. Catch myself chewing a rough patch on the inside of my lip. Become awash in the memory of feelings that were, at the time, overwhelming. Strange how intense the relics can be even after the immediacy and, truly, even the residual had faded. I wonder at the value of these evocative moments. At that moment, long past, the genetic imperative of my feelings was readily apparent; justifiable. But now? What purpose does this irrational anger, this will to violence serve?
I am, of course, a rational man, and would be hard pressed to act on such things, but the thought itches my brain. I am troubled by its continued existence. I am troubled by the why of it. Perhaps more tellingly I am troubled by the ease at which my rationality has vanished, replaced by the lizard brain.
He sees me, looks slightly uncomfortable. Good. I keep a stone face but I'm sure my eyes burn. Hands shake slightly. Maybe the coffee. A busboy clears tables efficiently, wordless, his slick apron evoking recent horror movies. More violence. I watch him work, his face also stone. He remains entirely focused. In spite of the distraction I can't clear my head. I think about him-the other guy that is, and the lizard wants to ruin his life.