These eyes search
but I only see the insides of my lids.

These words I muster
do not make it past the sanctity of my chapped lips.

These ears hear the cries and celebration of the world I once knew
but yet... I do not.

This skin fray at its edges but still envelop
this strange familiar plane... And I struggle to find my bearing.

So I indulge...
In this little serving of death.

This is my feud...
This is my fight.
Many are my thoughts,
I hide from sight.

I show myself steady
but much remains unseen.
Ungreased are the cogs in my head.
Their teeth sharpened keen.

They eat and abrade.
Always turning, always grinding.
Results always made,
detrimental and unforgiving.

So think of me...
Not negligence maintained
and notions bought.
Think of my feud.
Let it be food for thought.

This anger...

Feels like a ball of uncontrollable energy that spins treacherously in the pit of my stomach.

It is unbound and reaches out forcefully in every axis. It is self-sustaining. And it consumes...
All of me...

It's doesn't want to be displaced, or swept under the rug for the umpteenth time. It doesn't want to be cajoled or calmed. It doesn't want to be coaxed into thinking that it does not need to rear its ugly head because I believe I have a handle on things; which I clearly do not.

It knows me too well and will not take it lying down.

It wants acknowledgement and it wants to speak.

It wants to speak in a low guttural voice for the sheer purpose of intimidation.
It wants grow in figurative size to assert its validation.
It wants to absorb every form of negativity and use it to fuel the fight.
It wants to take the faintest pin-***** or papercut to the most painful stab in the heart and use them...
Harness them and then...
Explode in a hundred-mile radius.

This anger is real...
And it has had enough of sitting on the bench.
Now it wants a piece of the action...

And this time I let it.