You think it’s simple
but then it finds you
and defines you
to a moment of weakness
you are and what you’ll never be.
It rips you apart
from the unseen seam between your lungs and your heart.
And you stop.
Stop reacting, stop running.
Wind gathers in your jaws
like a clip-on earring pinching its way through your skin.
Here we are again,
achieving excellence in the art of anger
Sucking sound from conversation, gargling rage
for some unidentified reason
my temper soars toward the roof
like an unleashed helium balloon
slipping through my fingers
The past is a haunting presence
I’ve tried running away as far as I can
but then something falls off the shelf inside me
-a scar that won’t let me forget who I am-
And I collide into the corner of a room.
like an ice cube
left behind in the refrigerator door from a previous tenant-
My world is frost bitten by scraps of time.
These feelings, I know, are momentary but
How long is temporary suppose to last?