Devils We Be
I'm a monster. Born of rage, that primordial scream from birth hovers at the edge of my consciousness and beats against my vision like wind-blown torrents of rain against a windshield. Some days it's all I can do to keep lips that peel away from my teeth in a snarl from searing people with the truth. Reminding them of their mortality.
I can satiate this volcanic fury in me by giving into dark, predatory lusts. But I don't. I'm not a saint for that. It means that from time to time, my anger violently bursts through these seals like pressure on a zit, ejaculating puss and blood and pain.
Friendly debates can turn sour in an instant. Now it's an argument. Now it's about me. Let us howl together until our throats are raw. Let us sit inside a bitter silence and wonder why we keep company with people that make us feel alone. So alone.
The embers, ever burning, never dying, can be stoked into a raging fire with the tiniest of breath and I offer the handle of the bellows to friends and enemies alike.
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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Inspired by (sequel to):
I'm a monster.
Every time I share my real feelings I upset those that I tell them to. They fight, t…Monster
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You totally get it. Thanks.