crazy mother fucker/ me

Before my sister went to bed earlier, I told her that I'm worried about the constant quantity of anger that has been settled in my heart for what seems like a long time. I told her that oftentimes I feel the urge to "smash motherfuckers' skulls and shit". It didn't sound funny nor was I attempting to inject any humor in the sentiment. I was serious and not sensitive about these strange feelings. Usually when I am feeling extremely vulnerable, be it angry or otherwise, I have the urge to weep. During the conversation's elapse I never once felt the urge for catharsis, I never felt anything but straight forward violence, carefully explaining itself to a particularly beloved and trusted kin. My careful sort of madness got it's message out as clearly as it could have. I do not, of course, think I am crazy, but honestly, what authority does anyone have to really mean that. I will continue to function and write because that is what writers do. Holding on to fresh and cool with this digital function and phalanx, even if I swallow my tongue, the words, rainbows of cum and kisses, will still come. A thousand thousand kisses before that day for sure...too many things to do with my tongue before it's sacrifice. It should be sparred for the sake of...a thousand sighs.