a stitch,
   tingle, tingling
               twinge -
   oh my, my choler,
                my choler
      don’t let me be the last to know,
   I beg;

     livid in its nature,
      discolored by the bruising -
       in the beasts of things;

                wrath.
such a heavy tone for this indignation
or
your denseness; dolt

neverthelesser,

I’ll vent my spleen
‘til you’ve vanished back
into that bathroom I found you in