Tanned Trum

He stood there on the cold tile bathroom floor Barefoot in worn jarmy pants held up by a ribbon string tied above thin bony hips that shook in sudden sullen rage The redness was coming again thumping and pounding in his ears The door was locked to keep him alone as his clenching teeth began to hurt pulling the red cloud of angry into a small spinning hole to see through The room swam before his eyes as he fought for control of himself suddenly it broke over him again but this time he was ready taking hold pulling and pushing everything into that one spot that he kept from falling that place in himself that held cold peace slowly he felt breath cooling his ribs as his hands slowly turned red again finger by finger fearfully he looked around. nothing was broken.this time he'd held it. the next time would be easier. Soon he'd be five and big enough to ride it.