I want to dig my nails in to my skin,
and drag,
peeling and bleeding the tears I must not shed.
I will leave little crescent moons
that will glow
as pale
as a child's milk.

I want to pound my thighs,
and bruise,
breaking and destroying all frustrations.
Great booms will shake this earth
and stories will be told
about these booms
for generations.

I want to rip the hair from my scalp,
and shred,
tearing and pulling all smoke clouds away from my mind.
The ***** smoke puffs will dissipate
and I will be able to
finally
think clearly.