What to do with this rage?
The red, jaw-strained;
fingernails penetrating
palm epidermal layers,
the sizzling flashes
of this wick of bomb,
these bursts, these flames!
What the fuck do I do
with this rage?
The world is officially mad,
monitoring kids in their pants–
hey, pretty girls might be trans–
anti-worker, anti-woman,
anti-disabled and anti-old age.
My rage is ragey,
my filter is breaking!
Thank you, you low-IQ losers–
you’re so fucking stupid–
voting against The People,
yes, you included.
Just stay the fuck away.
Or my rage
might find its place.
