Juxtaposition

It only happens at night, when there are no other thought left in my mind. This juxtaposed mixture of excitement and anger that begins to well up inside of me as I lay watching shadows crawl across the ceiling, or the breath be drawn into his lungs, causing his chest to gently rise and fall as he sleep beside me. A feeling of both anticipation and dread. Why has it continued to ravage me these passed few nights, laying dormant inside of me until my body is ready to rest, then sinking it's teeth into my brain? I cannot escape it when I finally fall asleep, either - it's venom poisons my subconscious mind, as well. Dreams of violence executed with such a startling serenity; blood on my knuckles as I sip a chilled glass of milk, total peace within me as I drive my foot into the jaw of this half conscious woman. I wake up empty, half wishing it's happened, half glad my fists are clean. When thoughts do begin to trickle into my mind again, the anger slides slowly back into place, a rusty deadbolt that was only unlatched as I dreamed. I don't wish to be angry anymore, but for every reason I cannot simply let the anger go. And even if I tried to let it go, would it really leave me?