life's a kick

She clamps down on the horn of her Swift. Bee……..p. The blaring horn slices through the silence, rousing a sleepy afternoon from slumber. She presses down hard. Till the noise equals the angry hum in her own head. No, she won’t let this Ecosport go past. One, it was the chagrin of a small car being railroaded by a big brute. Two, the bully didn’t even possess the grace of an indicator. Three, and most importantly, she was not in the most charitable of her moods. She’ll have it her way at least somewhere. The exhilaration of choosing to go somewhere, rather than being led. Led like a pet on his master’s leash… into an unknown territory… scared of the surrounding, yet thrilled with the company. Tail wagging. Eyes glued to the only one. She releases the horn only when the SUV has been warned off. She keeps staring ahead. Not on the road, not on the horizon, just ahead. Eyes bloodshot. Jaws clenched tight. Angry. Seething. Mad. She zooms ahead at 110 kmph on the shining bituminou

The arduous task of holding grief Of emotions manipulated to make The seizures of angst seem brief Of hope thinning, causing to rake The wish tree's last lonely leaf Relentless fate threatening to break Fragile left overs of reprieve Against time running for its sake Spending death wishes in all but a heave Pain that grips the innards like plague The lump in throat that doesn't leave Inner implosions turning blake Leaving precisely nothing to bereave Ears bleeding, eyes steeped in ache Heart as mind's wretched fief Pauseless suffering, soundless writhing The arduous task of holding grief