Son of a Bitch

Reads: 22  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Review Chain


"SON OF A BITCH!" you shout, and I wonder how much skin the words rip out of your throat as you throw them out.



TW for swearing, gendered slur, and metaphorical but graphical description violence.

Submitted: August 01, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 01, 2018

A A A

A A A


"SON OF A BITCH!" you shout, and I wonder how much skin the words rip out of your throat as you throw them out. It almost doesn't sound human, and thus nothing has ever sounded more human.
You shouted those words with your guts and they flew across the street like a bullet. The distortion this bullet creates as it pierces the air is called: fury. You are fury.
You shot SON OF A BITCH and went quiet, shut your mouth, put the gun back in your guts with its many bullets loaded, ready to slit the world. Ready to break through you, too, were you to pull the trigger before taking the machine out of you.
You are fury.
What made you this doesn't matter, nor does who, only the present counts, and your present is fury. Burning fire inside your guts, ready to shoot, ready to reduce the world to ashes.
You are fury and the world is fireproof but so are you, and if you can shout then you can take the burn and swallow it inside, because you are fury and your fury makes you fireproof- except it does not.
You are burning, body slowly consuming, shrivelled up, dried to the core.
You cough on ashes when you shout.
Your world is fire and it fills you, takes you over, burns you from the inside and out like a pile of thorns.
You yell "SON OF A BITCH" and you are burning, endlessly burning. The flames are all you can see, the flames are all you can say, and it fills you.
You pull the trigger and shout a bullet of flames out in the streets and it pierces the air as it shoots that SON OF A BITCH you aimed, but as it shoots them it shoots you; you burn.
Fury: you are burning.
"SON OF A BITCH" you shout, for you are fireproof but you are not.
You are fury and thus, you burn.


© Copyright 2018 Wulfrann. All rights reserved.