Vexation

Irritation abounds at every input and sounds,
a prickly porcupine cushion
that shoots out rage and anger
at even the lightest touch
violence and harm implied in every twitch,
zounds and bloody hell;
all restraint and no catharsis,
as each moment builds up
like water drops wearing down a mountain
before it explodes with volcanic fury
the impassive expression belying the wrath beneath,
the little moments of sweet victory
have now turned bitter
and the still waters
churn and boil
thrashing, lashing out at anything and everything
but the foul source of displeasure slips past the grasp
the tyrant train of thought focussed onwards
but to no definite destination
other than a meltdown or derailment of this enraged action,
anger abounds, lightning strikes and thunder sounds
but this storm will pass in time.