my rage weeps from my pores,
it ruminates from my skin like the stench of *******:
the red blur,
the fire,
the girlhood,
the wound.
i am
spitting up sparks,
exhaling crescendos and
flailing; a dying fish/girl
a frenzied howl, screaming herself into existence
because the noise in her head is too loud,
because a dozen things are being pushed into her mouth
and she'd rather puke
that sit and swallow