Anger
anger is the flush that clogs that
fills the pretty pretty air with smog-
it isn't fair but it's over there, watching,
peering, lurking, jerking
off & leaving
nasty sticky stains-
don't strain yourself, it comes
& goes without warning, swarming
the innocent family, surrounding, pounding
its way in- using ears mouths & limbs
as entrances, arriving confetti sparkling
the sinuses of thought- i'm sneezing-
i'm seething- i'm wrought with mucus-
murky tunnels that seem to be getting
smaller smaller too
small to
fall-
i crawl
blissfully unaware
i'm spiralling inward
-because i care, i don't-
i am the bird smashcrumbling into the ever
clean glass, the massive shatter overrides
& then destroys the whisper (pitterpatter) the
suddenly splattered convoy of intensity- can't
help can't stifle this propensity to continue,
to punctuate 'accident' with perpetuity;
such stability is fluid, washes,
evaporates,
brings the spirit up only to
dissipate, fall, & falter again.
Copyright © Rachel Hart | Year Posted 2010
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