I hold so much hatred it feels as though the taught skin layered upon my chest might rupture open,
All to reveal my ribs worn frail and thin from the boiling, thick, acid anger that gnaws at my heart

How does one extract this burning from one's chest cavity and push it out their fingertips?
I crave those red lazer beams that reflect out fingernails and bounce far off into the galaxy,
away from this broken body that contains them.


People tell me it can be done.

Just picture the waves lapping upon crusted sand, taking with each retraction the scurf of yesterday's emotions.
Imagine clean, crisp, Antarctic skylines filled with pure glistening oxygen, untainted by life's noxious fumes.


Yet still if I open my mouth I fear I may ***** up every toxic thought cloud that permeates my skull.

So blinded by thoughtless emotion and the inability to explain away the fearful behavior it produces.


So sometimes I climb back into the corner of my mind.

Sit there till my extremities are numb with the inability to feel any longer.

Sit on the world,
dwelling on every ****** life event,
til the tiny taupe toothpick castles I once so cautiously and carefully constructed,
are burnt to ash by tiny tissue paper dragons.