anger: the devil

AnGeR

AnGeR

There is a feeling.
A feeling that consumes you
Leaving you bottled up
With a hint of despair
There is rage
There is fire
You see red.

Dark and unsurfaced flashes cloud your mind
Fueled by an unknown spirit
It is infuriating.
Pushing and pulling everything you stand for.

Imagine paper.
Paper caught on fire
A swift and light burning
Brings the paper to ashes
Until the paper is nothing but
Piles and Piles of Regret
A charcoal assortment on the ground.

But it does the same thing to your soul.
Slowly incriminating
Every move
Every step
Every breath
Everything you believe in
Your values.
There is fire
It seethes
Taunting
Tattering
Toying
With your senses
Until you don't understand
A sensation that gives you the urge to rip out your hair.

Then it hits you

Fear.
Remaining hidden.
Frightful
Boiling Trouble
Is that correct?

Then it hits you again.
Where it is no longer fearful
But why are you trembling?
Foreign numbness washes over you
Where you're boiling but you can't move
Your fingers try an estranged attempt to grasp onto something, anything.
But you're covered, with a feeling you can't even describe.

You want to hit something
Hard.

Perhaps a jalopy with a baseball bat repeatedly
You ponder on it
Your breathing unsteady

You barely pick up the bat
For your hands are still shaking.

You're off focus.
You steady the bat.
Remember the ultimate goal.
You watch the alien vehicle.
It has its own face.
The eyes gleaming with delight.
The bumper with a humble ghost of a smile on its face
Not hiding his obvious happiness.
You frown.
Why can he be happy?
Why am I miserable when he is proud with joy pooling in his eyes

You turn back with a glare
Eyes never straying from the car.
You embrace yourself for a full out swing.
The voices in your head scrambling frantically but you ignore them.
You're ready to swing
Knowing that the swing will contain maximum damage.

But you don't.

You can't.

You are unable to.

This one is almost paralyzing.
The numbness is still existent
Never leaving any part of your body
Cutting your heart strings with a fresh dagger.
All of this
Pushes you to the edge.
You drop the bat and crumble to your knees.

A stray tear slips
Across your unresolved madness that continues
To run through your veins.
Seething.
Despicable.
Murderous.
Callous.
Cruel.

Only one thing left on your mind.
Anger.