When he gets angry …
There is a rushing, flaming,
Ball of red ache that shoots up
To the back of his eyeballs.
It sits there like a natural
Noose, throbbing, robbing him of reason,
Of joy, of function. And leaves him
Alone in a dark place – a heaving
Mass of barely conjoined pieces of
his old self.
When he gets angry …
There is not an unkind word
He will spare you from.
His tongue does the book
Of James full justice.
The scariest thing when he
Gets angry, though,
Is the silence.
He just sits there,
Far away
And you know
That his mind is empty,
Except for the gnashing,
Vengeful, black and red
Thoughts that bite in
The dark.
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Submission Name: When Anger Knocks
