The Anatomy of Anger

Audio visual cortex
absolves
abhorrence.

Borderline smile,
the hazel face of a child;

all guile and guilt
adulthood spilled in her lap with
a wink and a laugh.

And should this
rash that starts as a series of
spots
devolve

(upon my chest until
every manufactured breath finds
its ambitions aligned with despots)

then my body’s
just a prop to
be bandaged when shot,
glued together
when dropped,
a constantly
rehabilitated plot of earth where
I’ll abscond as
ashes scatter.

Certain
molecular bonds
can never
be severed,
just as
some catalysts are not meant
to be mentored to become more
than a chain
reaction.

Neck from navel,
a radial fist,
breast to footstep,
each temperamental
cyst;

a trick on my senses I cannot quite kick.

Blisters to boils,
building character
and foils. Until
this toil succumbs to its age, I’m just

a symbol of
its sacrilege.

 **************************

Related:

The Ancestry of Anger
The Exodus of Anger
The Epitaph of Anger

Advertisements

12 thoughts on “The Anatomy of Anger

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s