end(anger)ed power

what is the most .. 

of the engendered or endangered, the enamored of anger, the species blinking on death and an appall of appetite,

their teeth once pointed have dulled, their glutes an emblem of glutinous glory, the food to the screen, and the table of ghosts who go unspoken so ..

”young one, what is it that angers you?” 

young one kneeled; death was a corner i walked into, and young one still passively stared at his fist, the left one

”i don’t know” 

young one thought to himself .. could it be of the power played through it, he thought that perhaps the expression of an emotion itself was in essence of the game, that one would say to, to gain it, or ask of, to hand over

the older, guessing at young one’s thoughts said: “it musn’t mean so much, and yet, you surely remember that you feel better after playing”

so it is for me? thought young one

”if it’s for me, why must others twist it so?” asked young one

”well because everyone thinks everything is for them” 

”i’d rather not indulge it” 

”you need not with me” said the older

”i’d tell them what i thought more if the explanation of it didn’t take so much out of me”

now, young one threw a small ball at the corner where a shadow caught it

”you see, you throw the ball and do not worry whether the wall will bounce it back” 

”think before you speak” young one said in quotes “is what they say”

”well yes, sometimes you like to throw the ball, sometimes that is the fun part, but when it gets lost in the forest will you miss it?” 

”perhaps not”

.. young one slumped against the wall and slid back into the corner, holding the ball in his left hand  

“and perhaps you care too much about what the forest will do to the ball.” 

Copyright 2019 ⓒ / Forrest Gallagher