The Rage and The Light

It has gone to s**t, has it not?

When the sun rising is just too much

Light.

Can't bear the light.

It's killing me ever so softly and

when the s**t hits the fan,

it is a glorious sadness, all eaten up

by fruit flies, digging their graves on

light bulbs and the carcasses all go

unreported and they hold their own

undignified funerals in the

carpet morgue.

 

Go ahead, Big Man, go on and

flush that dead mouse, that dead yellow bird,

that dead Goldfish, that dead rat who ate your crumbs at night...

Flush them all down the toilet bowl....who cares?

No one cares.

 

I drink to numb the anger, not the

Pain.

Pain nothing more than anger turned inward, toward the

Raging soul.

Not in the haze, it is clear that

I am the rat in the toilet bowl

being flushed down to the sewer with

No hope of a proper burial

No sign of the cross

No dressing, no stage, no important

men dancing toward my body with kisses

and praise.

No dignified funeral.

 

When the sun rises, the light

is too much to bear now.

I would rather be in the darkness, hiding, not knowing

where the demons lie.

I'll greet them in my dreams instead and

hopefully wake up screaming for them to

Leave me alone.

I would rather sit and bathe in my own ignorance

and I would much rather sleep, laugh, drink, and be merry than feel

that

Rage.

 

I've always preferred dating angry men who would

Punch walls.

People said I loved them despite it, but

No.

I loved them because of it.

It was beautiful and articulated with a profound realness

not found in most others

and I think to myself in a brief moment of

Light and clarity and in complete unity with the effervescent sun

that indeed----

 

I am them, too

 

and I don't believe that is such a bad thing now,

Is it?

Reviews

[Lightning Paw]

Speaking as one rat in a toilet bowl to another, I think this is quite brilliant. The way you cut through pre-conceived ideas of sadness and anger here is quite appealling to me and I relate rather a lot. From the sun with too much light to the "profound realness" of a fist slamming into a wall, you conjure an imagery that is refreshingly honest and effective in illustrating what, I believe, is not an unusual sentiment but one which is often kept out of mind.
'I am them, too'
And I don't regard it as a bad thing either.