Twopenny Theatre

I have these fits of anger where my arm muscle wants to throw whatever it's holding, and I don't move, but the ghost of my arm is throwing what ever it was into the wall.  I watch it fly, and bounce or break, but there's no release.  I didn't do it.  I never do it. 

If I was seeing me, and we were two, we'd get in a knock down drag out fight.  I'd pull me down the stairs by my hair, because it's in a nice bun which is about fist size.  And oh, how I'd slap me.  I'd like to feel every bit of it.  I want to fly and bounce or break, but there's no release.  I don't do it.  I never do it.

Would if I could, can't so I won't.