i don't even know how to be sad anymore.
all i know is rage.
i know red knuckles burning because
i had to punch the kid in yellow jacket
hands
to melt the rage off of my soul
i just don’t want an angry soul
take my soul
i thought yellow was happy color.
i shouldn't have taken it out on him.
this is fingers tingling.
the bented M on the BMW sign
on my stirring shell
makes me where my anger with pride.
i shouldn't be proud that my fist got stronger.
the crack i made in the mirror in my car looks like the cracks in my rattling bones, that keep digging in the dirt in the graveyard.
why am i obsessed with
skeletons.
broken bodies and souls
need help too.
all of my cancerous thoughts
are molded to
each edge of my
gooey brain.
spilling out of my
temples making the
bottle of excedrin
open
too often