Raw

If I could scream for twenty minutes straight, I’d still have so much left inside. I long for love to tear me open, rip and split the shell that hides and strangles me till I can’t see. It burns to even fucking breathe, cos every word has brakes applied and sings like stings in both my eyes, and punches me from inside out, a hammerfist fights through my chest; it thumps and roars against the cage, throws itself against the bars, and whimpers through its rage. Witness here the ugly side to passionate enaction; the equal, opposing forcefulness of raw and fierce reaction.