A Bubbling Cauldron of Anger.

I want to shed my skin, peel back layers of muscle. I want to pull out my bones and crack them so that the marrow runs, all oxidized and sluggish.

My technological shackle pings. Another one, sniffing about. At first I liked it, felt the confidence rise and my swagger build. But now I feel chained to it.

Every time I turn on the television, I'm told to mate. My body betrays me, biological clock hammering away. I want to stay alone. But this concavity, this hollow hole in my chest begs to differ.

Even now I bare my teeth, alone in my room tapping away at this fucking keyboard. I feel threatened, challenged. My mind says I am enough for me. My body says otherwise.

Nothing stops it. Not seas of alcohol or handfuls of pills. Not billowing clouds of smoke, or even bloodletting.

I feel trapped. Caged. And furious.