Froggacuda's Weblog

I don’t understand you
sometimes.
I don’t pretend to.
this is like a coal
forced down my throat
and dropped into my stomach.
this anger,
petty and full-fledged,
ripping the roots from the soil,
shaking the dirt off,
packing down what is left.
taking out frustrations,
biting down on the toothache,
I clutch my stomach;
you curse my name.
it all is okay.