Current location:	Bedroom
Current mood:	determined

Rage - An Old Poem

Written about five years ago now - I was taking a kick boxing/aerobics class at the local gym and after class one night, this is what spilled out of me.

Fists flailing, I crash through the night
Rage flaming from my body
As I fill the room
With my anger

Finally empty
My energy spent
I lay down and rest
My head on the ground

My breathing slows
And I am calm
I strip off my clothes
And head to the showers.

I LOVED kick boxing.  It was taught by this butchy muscular woman who had so much energy it was contagious.  I've been thinking about it since I found the poem in a folder full of various arts that I did in highschool.  When I was in class, there was nothing but the firm lines I extended my arms and legs into, pushing the energy through those lines to do the most damage to my opponant.  It didn't matter that I was doing poorly in gym, or that my step-dad had thrown another frying pan at me.  I could forget about it all when I was there.  I miss it.

So I'm thinking I need to polish off my gym clothes, suck in my gut and head down to Walnut Grove for class.  Who's with me?

This is my journey...
Want to come along?