Anger
intrudes
my well-being
as well as all of my fantasies
and realities,
sometimes becoming
like a swarming army
of hungry ants
at an improvised picnic,
suddenly appearing
and
making its presence known,
ready to eat its way through
my privacy of mind
only to leave me wondering
where
it comes from,
why it will appear
and
how far it can go.
.
perhaps
it's because
I've become the grease
for the machine.
or maybe food
for the higher order
that just gnaws at things,
gnaws at me
continually and ceaselessly,
gnaws
at my body and heart
and
my mind,
as well as other things
of the earth,
until finally we're all eaten
alive
or
somehow just die
from the dreaded fear of it.
.
well,
in that case,
I can only hope
that I give anger
what it truly deserves...
.
a way out.
.
and
that's pretty much why
I'm sitting on the can
locked
in a bathroom
at this very moment
with
a burning cigarette
clenched in a fisted hand.
.
.
©2017 Miles Ciletti