Poem: Anger

I feel my fingers bend and twist in my hand to form a clenched fist as my knuckles flex and whiten, my body tightening. Each millimetre of my being - vexing - as my emotions flow through me like a surging wave, overcoming any rational threads of insight i had previously. FUCK. Madness, anger, irritation, fury and frustration spurred through aguish, agony, despair, torment and desolation. Heartache until all feelings over come your mere corpse and you feel as if your brain will implode, as if it was a bomb, seconds away from ultimate detonation. I WANT TO KILL YOU, you yell down the phone. Down the sonic airwave microfibres; or in person as you lean towards the other ready to strike like an animal pouncing on its prey, hungry for torture. Or as you bang around your flat, throwing you possessions as if there value was parallel to the trash in your bin. Screaming at the walls as you take out your inner frustration on every object in your perception, destroying, ruining, lobbing and banging. Does this make you feel better? How does one deal with anger? You manically assess as you tear apart the stress ball you were given to squeeze with your teeth, as your canines rip and grind its irrelevance down. Anger is unavoidable. It’s duration variable. Your balance has been disrupted. You have been shifted, sizzling like an incoming torpedo ready to erupt and desolate the scene. WILL YOU OVERCOME THIS? WHEN WILL THIS UNCONTROLLABLE HOSTILE BEHAVIOUR LEAVE? WHERE ARE THE ANSWERS? Angers - etymology derives from the Middle English, Old Norse terms ‘angr’-‘grief’, ‘angra’ -‘vex’. Something harmful/ negative imposes itself upon your spatial existence, emotionally and physically. Your insides detect the impertinence, the insolence and displeasure. Your whole body vexes - angra SCREAM, SHOUT, HIT, VIOLATE, STAMP, SLAB, MANIPULATE. You select your weapon of choice as you plan your next move to reciprocate the minds nerve endings. Alerting each cellular formation you encompass. YOU ARE ANRGY. ALL PARTS OF YOU SIMULTANEOUSLY AGREE. Writing this i’m scathing at the page so furiously. The ink has now pierced through the paper onto cotton beneath. As my pen leaves the page, the anger has almost dissipated. Is this how i should channel it? Perhaps? So it dissolves back to my rational being, opening my door to tranquil maturity. There never seems to be a viable answer. However today, this is my conclusion to solving my personal ANGER.