Wanting to Scream

He wants to scream

But he can't.

At least not here
not now
no way.

Anger boils up inside him like a pot 
full of water
rapidly bubbling
releasing steam
making a mess
everywhere.

Fired.

Let go.

Dismissed.

Around him the others are typing, talking, texting, tallying numbers and terminating deals and teeming with work place spirit.

Animated, motivated, tabulated, isolated, frustrated.

Punch in, punch out.

Head down, work hard.

Kiss up, laugh hard.

He did it all!

Now this.

Why?

He
had been ordered to collect his things
like a nobody
an after thought
a has been
or a piece of trash
tossed to the proverbial curb of life as well as the real curb outside the door.

Sitting at his desk for the last time, he
fights the urge to punch the wall 
or his boss
or his neighbour (who just needs to blow his nose already)
or those personal demons.

It's all their fault.

He rises
making a fist 
nails piercing skin
drawing blood
the pain feels right.

And yet it doesn't.

He was once 
the golden boy
the promised one
the t crosser and the i dotter
the yes man
and the no sir.

He was both the jack and the master of all of the trades.

He had jumped how high, and now, he had sank so low.

He wants to scream.

Just not here.