Home is where the Hate is

The wind blew
A raging series of hammer blows
Treating me
As mere flotsam
Another piece of debris
To toy with

I did not mind this at all
For it is the way of things
One is rarely
The eye of the storm
Yet on occasions
The eye and I conjoined

These were intractable
Horrid times
Too much joy
The deadly breath of love

Happiness and contentment

Anathema

In those times
I long for
The sweet sweet suffering
Of the storm front
When this mind
This rage in a cage
Is once more
Unleashed upon the world

© 2012, Mosquitobyte