Anger is a fascinating thing.
It is all encompassing. It swallows you whole and sucks hard through a little pit right in the middle of your rib cage.
Heat gathers at your cheek bones and steam rises through the pores on your face and off the sides of your shoulders.
The muscles tighten below your shoulder blades.
It runs down your spine until it reaches your tail bone and wraps around your hips like a lusty lover's hungry hands.
Its fingers dig into you and blood flows through your thighs down to your knees.
The urge to move engulfs you. It emancipates you. It liberates the binds that keep you still.
Your feet find a direction before your mind can stop long enough to determine a path.
You race and repeat the cause in your mind until it stops to matter.
You slow down.
You stop.
You say thanks. It is only when you get angry enough are you able to be completely self-engrossed and not care.
That's when you are reborn and can really appreciate that which surrounds you.
Remorse sets in. Guilt.
Still the silent private pleasure of a deep sigh that would not have happened if you had not lost control remains.
Quietly you turn around and go home.
Home. The place where you started. When you get back all is quiet.
Traces of their fear replaced by gratitude that you have returned.
Anger is rain followed by the calm of a misty gray morning, before the rest of the world woke up.
