My ire

Trying not to be angry
But fuck I’m full of heated fury
Got a book about how to deal with ‘difficult people’
Got an app that guides me through meditation
A shit load (and that’s a scientific measurement) of guilt after the irritation turns to insults
But I’m like a dog with a bone
As this ire surges through my blood
Adrenalin, heart racing
The devil in my head wants to get up to no good
In revenge, you’ll find glory
It says
But I know it’s a lie
But I’ve got this monster in a cage
and I don’t think I can keep it forever contained
It’s spinning and whirling in frenzied, energetic bursts
Colliding with the bars and making my stomach lurch.
Take a breath and count
Down to madness
Take a breath and count
the hours
One more little niggling doubt
One more little niggling hit
One more little stab in the back
And i’m gonna burn, i’m gonna blow
Till i’m back in the abyss
And it swallows me whole.
I know this storm is my own
But it seems to me It’s always a one way street
And I’m back to thinking the same things the books tell me are wrong
Because I can’t put my finger on it
Can’t find the words
But it sounds like bullshit
Since your fucking advice only works
If EVERYONE ELSE reads your fucking words
And took them to heart
And made a new start
Otherwise, somehow my anger is never justified
And that makes me better, because? Because why?
“You shouldn’t think your anger is justified it continues the cycle,” I nod in agreement
Till I realise these words are holding me to a standard
Impossible for humans
And you’ll tell me everything I’m saying here is the problem
And we’ll go full circle because I’m “Wrapped in myself.”
I’m tired of seeing it from their point of view
It’s all I ever seem to fucking do

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Can a man dare to dream

Sit and listen to
The sound of the pitter patter
That abounds
Like constant white noise
Asserting no significant attention
Just the buzz of human relations
Like the wings of a bee
Humming the language of nations
Industrious working of this socialisation
Working its way through the psyche
Of many generations
While clowns look to the clouds
With wisdom in their jest
And hearts of lions pounding in their chest
Perhaps detained
But noticing every freedom
Has it’s own cage
And seeing that maybe
As caged birds flaps their wings
Can a man surely dare to dream?