When I get angry…. (and a poem)

I stew.  My blood boils.  I want to snap tree trunks in half.  I want to take a sledge hammer and destroy doors and windows. I want to take expensive electronics and hurl them so they shatter into a million pieces.   A therapist once suggested that I throw ice cubes against a brick wall.  I would love to tell her now, sweetie, that’s small time.  It’s like a mist, when I feel like a monsoon.

To all the rude, obnoxious, and impatient customers out there: !@#$%^&*!@#$% ^&*!@#$%^&!@#$% ^&*!@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*@#$%^&*!!!!!!!!!  What I want to say, isn’t even legal to think.  Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this.

When I get home from work, I can feel all of the stress tension in my neck, back and shoulders.  I can feel my heart rate still elevated and my body tense.  I’m still calculating the horrible things I could do that would destroy my frustration.   When I get to be this angry, I get irrational. I spend money. I eat junk food.  I wish I had a car so I could drive fast.

Oh, how the exhilaration of a roaring engine from zero to sixty

thrills me.

Even a tamer zero

to forty-five.

There is something about just pulling away

from every thing I hate

at such a rate

that I enjoy.

Something about letting the dust settle,

after I am gone.

Taking a drive

not  recklessly

but aimlessly

calms my mind,

and frees me from that bond.

Not sure why I just broke out into a poem there. Wow.  That was the first time after a long time; and after a major dry spell too. Lol. Goodnight.


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