Read an email and it comes, the burn in your forearms, the tension in your neck, as you purse your lips to slam the comments shut. Just let it out, says that voice in the folds of your brain, and everything will be better; they know you’re right, and you know you’re right, so show them.
There it is. That heat.
You tuck it back in confines within you and move to the next encounter. So much said by flapping, useless, aimless lip flesh as dribble and word vomit gushes from between them.
That heat. It starts smoldering.
Splash it out with the waters of patience and get on with the day. But there ahead… No! Not the outside world! You kept the fire from consuming those around you for a time, but now there is kindling all around. Thick, wooden heads with brittle, cork-filled cavities in charge of a mess of limbs and floppy parts. They smack into you in crowds, swerve around you in motorized idiot transports, and steal your valuable attention like clumsy thieves as you try to make it to some predetermined destination.
That heat. It’s drying your bones and searing your good intentions.
The fire blows out of you, and you don’t know who it had hit, who was in the path of attack. It was someone, a human being that tapped the char enough to crack your shell and unleash the hot, intense smackdown you put upon them now. It thickens your muscles, straightens your spine. You’re more handsome, more sexy. You are the glittering celebrity of the universe. Men want to be just like you and women want to melt on your skin. You could build a city or level a nation. Your mind shits gravity and filters noise into galaxies. The very existence of humanity rests on your shoulders.
That heat. That power. That control. It was yours.
Once a sun, now reduced to glow and smoke. You take some deep breaths and compose. Bodies of mangled relationships and twisted feelings lay before you. You regret so much, but still feel accomplished.
You tuck away that heat. Tomorrow. You’ve got things to burn.