Anger

Similarly to when I posted midnight before working at the York races, tomorrow I'll be very busy cooking for friends coming for a meal and then going to a party. Thought I'd save myself a small piece of stress by posting a poem now since it's technically Thursday :')

So this is Thursday 4th August poem.

Fists pound against the brain
heart races
trying to run it's way up the throat 
veins thrum with frustration
for a second
or maybe two 
everything flashes red.


Fists clench
long to lash out 
at anything 
mouth forms 
a silent scream
everything forced inwards
fearful of what would happen
if all this emotion
felt for just a second
was released.

Anger

A tension 
in the chest.
Frustration.
Gritted teeth
fists clench
unclench.
Breathe
through the nose
and out.
Try and
ignore the pounding
fist
that was just
a heart.

Ssshh

I'm lucky that I haven't suffered this yet but I am friends with people it has happened to. Everyone seems to accept talking behind people's backs as if it's OK. Personally I don't like the feeling of people talking about me behind my back so I try not to do it to other people. In my opinion people need to be more open.  

Behind your back
whispers begin
rattlesnake like
hiss
venomous words
stick to skin.


A hive of bees
buzzing
angry
building pressure
until something
gives
gets out.


The hiss
is now a shout
out of the shadow
in to the light
no where to hide.
The pack begins
to bite.
Prepare yourself
you're in for a fight.