I use to sing
To make it go away
But now I conjure
With every pound upon my rib cage
My heart
like a delirious animal
My bones
With fervor on a metaphysical drum
That's
Beating, beating, beating
Around an ancient fire
Bring rain
Bring rolling clouds and pain
To match my ownI do not care
about your rain checks
In fact,
I hope you drown in them
And when you reach for me,
I'll be in the clouds
YOU ARE READING
Anger & it's Vices
Poetry"I've carried this anger for half my life I'm placing it down" Short poems from the years I'm now trying to heal from.