All posts tagged anger

After Life

Published October 20, 2015 by April Fox

Someday, it will be the end.

It will be over

and if you believe in Heaven,

I will rip you from your mother’s warm embrace

pull out the thick umbilicus and strangle you

with the only thing you ever

truly wanted

watch you fight the blackness that creeps into your eyes,

bursts of light, the sound

of rushing water

in your ears

the silence that welcomes you


bring you back

and start again.


Published September 11, 2015 by April Fox

I don’t care what you think of me,” he shouts
into his megaphone,
short fat body like a pillbug all rolled up and just as smart
words like stagnant water, they have
no substance
no ability to hurt
or to wash anything away

I don’t care what you think of me,” he shouts
garbled speech slowed down at the ends, sharpened by hate
but still
as dull as his head,
I don’t care what you think

but tell me

What do you think?”

And his insides must be slick as mud, rotten fruit and
the smell of regret, knowing
he was never anything
and in his head, the wires cross
short out the reality
the future like a blacklight
showing all the shit he’s done
showing all he stands to lose.

I don’t care what you think of me,” he shouts
sour tongue begs for a reaction, throwing epithets and hope
like a monkey throwing shit

I don’t care what you think of me-

I don’t.


Published September 11, 2012 by April Fox

Came across a folder of things I wrote but didn’t publish, for one reason or another. Everything I write is somewhat abstract, and while the more positive things might be inspired by a particular person or event, the darker, angry ones almost never are. I go through phases in which I’m appalled by our society, public figures, ignorance, hate; I sometimes fall into memories that are tangled up with others, bits of nightmares and fears coming together in my mind and making it restless and shaky, until I have to put all of that rage somewhere. Those words are some of my best, but I’m still reluctant to publish them, both to avoid unnecessarily angering people to whom the words have no connection, and to avoid potentially hurting anyone who might think they were the impetus for anything particularly vile I might come out with. I don’t write with the intent to hurt anyone. I write with the intent to clear my mind, and when I’m in these dark and vulgar phases, the wrath is almost always self-directed, or the result of some horrid aspect of the world out there that I simply can’t cope with any other way.

That being said, I found this shit, and it’s good, and here’s a bit of it.


dear one,
with your eyes blacked and your lip split
bruises marking the path you’ve walked
in order to save face
does the mirror tell you
when to breathe,
to spit-
to swallow?

tie your laces together, sunshine
walk with tiny steps to where
you know you shouldn’t be
break the things you should have loved
to own what no one

Amendment One

Published May 9, 2012 by April Fox

i feel as if
amendment one
is being read by the light of a bulb
shining through the skins
of my family, friends-
my children.

how can you cry your careful,
scripted tears over the loss of a life
not yet started
and tell the child before you
that his life means less than yours?

pro-life, and yet you spit
your prejudice and bile into the faces of your neighbors
fight to take away
their right to life

how easy is it for you to waste your righteous hours
combing through the verses in your book
tossing bits and pieces into piles by the side
over here are things that we’ll ignore
over here is where we make the condemnation pile

you gossip in the grocery aisles
while you shop for pork and tampons
maybe lobster for the anniversary of when you stopped
fucking behind the back
of the god that you adore

dip your razor in the baptismal pool
round the edges of your beard
shave your scalp clean
watch your faith fall to the floor

wine-drunk in the mornings
cannibalizing christ and if his body was inside you
you would see where you are wrong.

slave-owner, whore
if i were bible-bound like you
i could whip you while you cleaned my floors
then sell you for your meat
so your body could be violated
like your conscience must have been.

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