Do you think rage tastes like blood? If it were a thing that you could consume, would it be coppery, bitter, and metallic? Something you wanted to spit out instantly?
I am so filled with it all of the time. If it were a food, they’d call me a glutton. And I wish I could toss it away, like left-overs gone bad.
But it’s an addiction to this feeling that comes over me like an angry god of ancient times, waiting for some innocent mortal to come down and strike for things that they unknowingly did. While not taking any of the blame myself.
Whatever rage is, I wish I could cut it out of me. It hurts too much to have it. And nothing to do with it.
