Anger Is a Short Madness.

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Anger is a short madness” – Horace
It creeps all over you; it crawls, teases and provokes you. Like soaking wet clothes it drags you down, replaces your mind with an explosion of incandescent neurons, brilliant oranges and reds cascade into view, deluding, confusing and trapping you into the temporary oblivion of insanity – like a bullet escaping the barrel of a gun your single thought of madness screeches through your cerebrum, you hear it in your intellect – the drums of war bellow as blood floods your ears – you see fire, taste blood and smell danger. You are in a blind rage, drunk with animosity, consumed by hatred and twisted in your thought. 

Like swimming through a river of syrup you struggle to break free from your momentary transportation to an alternate plane of reality. Your existence during this time is different; consequences, causality – they don’t matter. Nothing does. Your trapped in a cob web so dense, so confined that you are wedged into a crevice of bitterness – to move left or right is impossible. To deviate from the path of anger is unattainable. The only way to escape is to trudge through to the end of the fissure, at the very bottom of deepest catacombs or your mind, exploring the emotions that make you doubt your humanity. 

In the flash when all love has passed and every glimpse of remorse and restraint dissolves, you purchase a one way ticket to a destination that has no sunshine, no flowers and no blue skies. It’s dark and thunderous; there is no soul, no vitality, and no symbol of beauty. Like the end of a cigarette your forehead blazes into a radiant inferno of guiltlessness, as the sweltering heat augments to a feverous climax – compassion, empathy, understanding all spontaneously ignite, in a moment’s heartbeat they disintegrate, fold and contort, crumble and crash to the ground. Everything human is stepped on by the monsters of you rage. 

It festers in your mind, protrudes through your cortex and like a syringe through a...
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