In the deepest part of this miscut meat,
an ancient reverberation
of a dripping beast
releases a silent scream
in the name of my salvation.
Nice to meet you, Anger.
I wonder where you precisely live;
where it is that you get your start?
Are you ancient, too?
If so, are you, Anger, a result of that virgin wound?
Do you, then, complete me?
In the deepest part of my miscut meat,
I release a muffled scream
from the throat of my soul, six feet deep,
under internal dirt.
I wish that I could say,