Covering the Rage

The pounding palpatation, the moistening of palms Swallowing, an obstacle, wave goodbye to calm Breathing now is labored, balling of the fist Paranoid my eyes have bled, consumed in a red mist It's lucky that my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth At least I'm keeping some control of things I shouldn't shout Things I shouldn't scream and rage and spasm til I ache Hands behind my back so I dont punch you in the face It's not that I'm not used to it, it happens every night It's the root of every problem, subject of every fight The time has come to ask myself, how longer can I hack it. Or the answer to a good night's sleep? Sleep with separate blankets.