Sellophane

The kind of wicked rage that is fuelled inside of you, the kind that you do not know

about. You try and control the direction, but you can't. Simply because you can not

detect the source of it.
One swollen lip, could be anything. An allergy, medication, eddie murphie jeans. It

doesn't matter, I want to bite it. Feel the warm blood. Taste it.
Wet keys on a dusty keyboard, all in all a rather muddy affair. They type out words far

truer than you thought you would ever let your eyes see.
Reveling, gleaming, grinning almost in your own weakness. The weakness within you

that does not let you trust things. It's a weakness you see in yourself, so you assume it in others.
Don't trust. Since when did you trust. Trust, use it like a knife...one decorated with stones

dripping in the blood of the owner. Use it to stab it and sheath it with human flesh.
The blood, always the blood, warm, pulsating, alive.
Now here...and now.