Goodbye to Anger

I wrote this, and I need to be done with it.

Anger:

Rage is such a silent thing
most of the time.

But inside the blood and guts,
the tissue and bone,
of every good decent human being
rage looms.

It’s a threat of a threat,
and a chance that the chance might come
to take over: become
an attack
a scream
a thrust of some violent words or
fists or who knows what.

The urge bows down at the feet of our humanity.
It only needs one lazy toe
to let go.

You fuckinloudmouthedbitch
justshutup.

For instance.

>>>>>>>>

I wrote that desperately.

I am less desperate now, for reasons that partly include this place: it has never been a bad idea to write "it" down.

So the anger is becoming an old friend and like all old friends, it feels funny to let go, but I do.

(Not funny ha-ha, like the Gigantic Three year old who, newly-potty trained opened up the front door of our house, dropped trou and pissed all over the steps for every neighbor to see. Not funny in that way.)

By funny, I mean the funny that happens when you sit up and see how fruitless all your anger has been. That kind of funny, as in -- wait, that was wierd: I wasted so much time.

So guhbye to that. Buh - bye. See ya. So long. Bye.