Angry again
Feels distant and foreign this time
Hazy, indistinct, but still here
Like my father's or my mother's view
I feel it in my center, holding me tighter than anyone
Tighter than anyone ever wanted to
And in that smoldering center the life races
Taut and corrosive
Like the fury I feel
I strike at nothing, stone beneath bone
My hands hurt and feel broken
I feel a little broken too
But I'm not angry anymore
My face is damp
Like a certain sort of due
When I get angry like this
And struggle to find how to say so
YOU ARE READING
Lines
RandomA mess of stuff that won't fit elsewhere. Some are pretty absurdist, no direct continuity unless stated (doubtful on that, these are meant to be one-off poems/stories). I like to explore different styles of writing in small works like this, so some...
