I forgot what it feels like to be enraged.
I want to gouge out someone’s throat
Rip out their hair
Kick in their ribcage
I want to scream at the cosmos
When I lose my voice go on shrieking
Without sound
Until I’m gasping for air
I want to run
Dance
Mosh
I want to rip out these pages
Fuel my fire of
Pent-up aggression
Anger
Hatred
I feel problematic
Pressed
Atrophic
Terminal
Blackened
Empty
I remember feeling used
And abused
And ignored
And abandoned
I remember rage
I want to go and go
And go and go
And keep on going until I fall down dead
I remember the mainline
The needle in the vein with the poison
That sedated the rage in the last round I fought
The endless quiet
Which only made the rage inside me
More prominent and prevalent
Over and over and over again
I’m so empty
Empty as the church pews reserved
For the whores and gigolos
On a Saturday night
Void as the heavens
Blank as a brand new canvas
Sitting in the warehouse still in its box
I should be lurking in shadows
Living on the lam
Jumping at my own reflection
In the shattered mirror
I should be suffocated
Bound
Subjected to senselessness
I belong in black.

© Crystal S. McDonald.