I feel myself slithering up from the depths of only grief looking slightly like Golum from the inside out.
A demonic sinister look in my eye promising to eviscerate your soul.
I am angry.
Ball busting violently angry.
I want to claw, gnash, tear out, slash and burn.
I want to beat and main and thrash and break and cut and filet your soul from the inside out.
I want to rip your heart from the middle of your body, hang you upside down and watch you drown on your own blood.
I am looking at you from inside myself seeing the hands that are not mine try to destroy you to the core.
I am writhing in a body that feels foreign and slimy and disturbed and vile.
I AM ANGRY AT AMERICA
I am angry at you for creating a world I am disgusted to be a part of. Angry that I am embarrassed to raise my children in this hell.
Angry that you have brought to the surface the darkness of a nation that I was just beginning to feel safe in.
You have destroyed all the faith I had in the road I was traveling.
It is vile, disturbed, depraved, disgusting.
It is horror and madness.
Gross, gagging bile of filfth running through my maimed and broken fingers.
Dripping like green snot onto a burned out mother earth.
As the South African mothers mothers used to say:
NOW YOU HAVE TOUCHED THE WOMEN
YOU HAVE STRUCK A ROCK;
YOU HAVE DISLODGED A BOULDER;
YOU WILL BE CRUSHED.
I am coming for you in all my vile depravity America.
Consider this your only warning.
“In 2033, justice rides a tank and wears lip gloss.”