Apr 20, 2014
"ah, young rancor": sonnet 428
though violence is beyond a last resort it brings with it some tempting imagery a drawling phrase that's peacefully cut short by not murder, but assault, of first degree
perhaps beyond my mind, my weapon, speech is all i can depend on for a strike in reddened thoughts i do more than impeach but damage, tooth and nail, in my--dislike
now beyond expected motivations his existence itself begets caprice subverting my own clear expectations my impulses demand a breach of peace.
(it can't be unheard of or overdone to want to both kiss and injure someone.)