Rage

I kicked this hole in my life

Battered and bruised it beyond recognition

And the rage spilled out into places it did not belong.

But the bass kept kicking and setting the rhythm

The choreography of each step intensifying

And the rage spilled out into places it did not belong.

The reverie, both sexual & violent

Swept us away in a haze of our own design

And the rage spilled out into places it did not belong.

It’s lonely

It’s cold

It’s broken

It’s lost

But I found it and fixed it and warmed it and loved it.

Still the rage spilled out into places it did not belong.

And I fought invisible demons,

and wrestled unseen angels,

and pushed back against unknown persons.

If the emotion wasn’t present,

or the tide had turned another direction,

would the rage have been fed so well?

And would I still have been me,

without rage where it does not belong?