There is nothing
Quite as purifying
As the frustration
Of knowing
What is coming next

And having
No power
To stop it

It is purifying
Because the blood
Boils at such heat
That nothing can
Survive

Sterility through anger
Disinfection through rage
Cleansing through fury

Fists balled into
Ivory white
Wrecking *****
Teeth clenched
Spine rigid

A barbed tongue
Spits silent curses
Into the syrupy haze
Of a July afternoon