Funny, isn’t it
How negative emotions
Strong feelings
Become adrenaline fueled body rushes
Which have the power to turn digits
Into wild animals that crawl over the keyboard
Like skittering scattering cockroaches
My breath gets shallow as a sports fan’s mind at playoff time
I try to regain control like a swami
But I’m no eastern mystic
Some buttons can’t be unpushed
Those cockroaches need to crawl back
To their dark corners
Before tranquility returns
David Trudel © 2012
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