the path

the path of fury is fascinating, particularly when it lacks a clearly defined center. it tears up from the depths of me, ripping like a tsunami as it moves to inhabit and infect my limbs. i don't know why it got me this morning, why each punch of the bell demanding entry to this empty office made my digits quake with rage. it was almost like euphoria, inducing similar lightheadedness, and it remains beyond me to pinpoint the root of the affliction.

the storm flickers quickly in and out of focus, running away for short swathes of time while still leaving a few clouds in its wake. such as the vehement desire to set the rest of the world on mute, or just openly scream everything i'm dying to say (shut up, stop staring, hurry up, go away, take a shower, stop it, fuck you, don't touch me, don't look at me) but won't out of a sense of propriety. and futility.

i never cease to be amazed that it is only in those moments when i want some peace and quiet that the bell and the phone never, ever stop ringing. that the boorish carriers of fedex and ups barrel in screaming and treating me like i owe them something, grilling me with questions that i can't answer. a good employee, a good human being, i force myself into some approximation of pleasantness, loath to fully unleash my humours on the innocent, however irritating. and thus i lie through smiling teeth, wishing people a nice day when i really just want to rip out their throats.

but i don't. after all, there are laws. and blood is a poor substitute for lipstick, let's face it. the color never stays true and it gets mad sticky. which nobody likes.

so, you know. smile, nod, grit, wait. seethe breathe.