So ... how do you strike the invisible?
The absent?
That's what I've been missing.
Something
someone
to put my anger in.
Until its quiet.
It'll always be there.
Growing.
Smoldering.
Radiating.
Strike back...
the words feel as if they should have more meaning.
Maybe it starts in unexpected places.
Maybe it comes for me, not vice versa.
I couldn't tell you.
I feel incomplete.
They took it from me.
I can't get it back.
I don't think I want it any more.
I don't know what I'd be if I had it.
A killer?
That doesn't sound so bad to me.
If I stop long enough, its all I can think.
Tiny packages of justice.
Messengers of an injury upon an injury...
but what if that doesn't bring it back.
What then?
Then you dig holes.
Bigger holes.
Darker wholes.