Sunday, February 28, 2010

Wrath


Wrath comes in waves. No one ever walks around, aggressive, looking to fight, I guess the way straight boys do in the far East Rand but hell, when a queen is pissed a scene will follow. From the bitchy fairies to the muscle marys. I have seen it all. Beer bottles thrown at heads, lovers riding over lovers with their cars, bites that draw blood and a tetanus shot is needed and slaps across a face that echo threw a hallway.
Anger burns in all of us like soft pilot light waiting to burn brighter and boil the water, it only takes one person or an incident to make it explode.

He is a total product of his emotions and when he gets angry it can be so over the top and dramatic. He stands in the misty sauna, watching the love of his life in close embrace with someone totally subpar. He struggles to see sex as just sex when he has been making love for so long, he struggles to understand especially because he is there willing and waiting to be that man in the close embrace. He tries to be a cool boyfriend and looks the other way but that pilot light of anger is starting to burn. He goes back to the misty surrounding with random men. He pushes them against the wall and fucks them, rough, hard, forceful. He is trying to get the anger out.
But he is really just angry with himself, he is hurting himself, how can he allow someone to treat him with so little respect, how can he allow a person make him feel so undervalued.



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