Post the Seventy-Ninth or No Longer

My anger

Is

Spiritual

A glittering, iridescent mass of burning pain

That coats softer

Parts of my body

Yes it feels good

No you may not touch it

Yes it will maim you

–

Your ancestors claimed

A “divine” right to my

Ancestor’s land

I claim

A divine right

To be pissed about it

–

Monsters

Often have blue glass eyes

Watching

But failing to see

True colors

Their mouths filled

With dust

Projecting hated images

Onto bodies that are not theirs

As easily as an artist

Paints canvas

He said “Don’t look behind the curtain”

But I already knew I was being played

–

In kindergarden

I learned

Play nice

&

You will get yours

I’ll be damned

If I’m gonna wait

Any longer