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  • Anger
    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
    making its presence known,
    ready to eat its way through
    my privacy of mind
    only to leave me wondering
    it comes from,
    why it will appear
    how far it can go.
    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,
    at my body and heart
    my mind,
    as well as other things
    of the earth,
    until finally we're all eaten
    somehow just die
    from the dreaded fear of it.
    in that case,
    I can only hope
    that I give anger
    what it truly deserves...
    a way out.
    that's pretty much why
    I'm sitting on the can
    in a bathroom
    at this very moment
    a burning cigarette
    clenched in a fisted hand.
    ©2017 Miles Ciletti
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