where do thoughts that cannot be uttered, trapped in the heaving chest containing a deadly explosion, feelings that surge and press against the skin, of anger of indignation or just pure adolescent [immature but human and momentary] temper, go to? i think if i pictured a sweet somewhere, a place that conjures up milk and honey and flights of stairs leading to an attic that contain black balloons you can prick to release the seizure of emotions, maybe that's the trick to containing and eventually erasing my temper tantrums. to only get angry at worldly injustice and not petty personal imaginary agendas that sour my soul. don't waste my heart's store of anger for little squirmishes.

i am pacified by the thought of you. and to hear your voice - it butters over my metaphorical foot stamping.

it's over and gone like a lost cloud. today is triva day. on the pantry's notice board: do you know that polar bears are left handed?