A Rage of Fit
by bru
And I think I'm going to be sick
as my hands won't stop shaking
and my honesty won't stop aching.
I feel the heat beneath my skin
waiting to inhale all that is
about to rise.
Waiting to demolish the empire I have built
on fields of betrayal
and oceans of greed.
I've never wanted more than to
close my eyes and scream through the days
and to scream through the nights.
I would tear my hair out if my ego
wasn't blocking the way.
And if I didn't look for myself
in every shiny surface.
All that beauty
and all those lies.
Wait around for the great demise.
Deceit for hands
and knives for eyes.
I can feel it curled up in a ball
at the bottom of my stomach.
It's the child you forget
to pick up from soccer practice.
It's the shoe you leave untied
because you're running late for the train.
It's the tears of steel falling down my cheeks
as I grow more deceit in the garden
that has been blossoming since the day I was born.
