You make my blood run hot like magma
coursing under the skin and
catching fire on my breath.
Even your voice makes me have to
hold back the angry whip in my heart
dying to lash back at your heathen vomit.
But I will not falter.
“For anger resides in the laps of fools.”
This too shall fade.
So with every breath
your voice will become faint to my ears.
With every stroke through the water
I will drift you farther away.
With every running step
He will build a new calm within me.
And soon my anger will become
the reflection of your headlights
through my rear-view mirror
shining a mask of light over my face
when all else is dark.
You will not feed off of my anger.
But rather you will starve on my tranquility
until you can no longer resist His life giving words
and your old Adam will fade away.