i like angry poetry the kind that churns in your gut, with razors for teeth and gums bleeding. i like the violent sound of verbs clashing on a decaying page, like the shot of a gun on a quiet day. i like the poetry that stays, that lies in waiting like a dog in a cage, words that creep like voided birds into the wired tress of my brain, that pay their rent like drunken travelers and trash the place. i like angry poetry the kind that sears it's screams to my lips, which spirit echoes and moans for eager, ****** eyes. words that hit like *****, giving their reader a killer hangover. i like angry poetry, the kind that leave you with a smoky exit.