themaligned 
(click me)

You think thebad words are undesirable,
but it is of the body, untethered to thought.
and thesick you sneer at—
that, too, is of the body. What
is the shape of freedom,
the object thereof,
if I cannot expel
therage bursting inside
when the pressure is too great
against eyelids nailbeds theopens squeezing,
squeezing shredded citrus
whorls of sanity into
roaring tides of stained tigers
clanking between my teeth bloody
bellies full of thesharp things
no polite company dares say. You
may not listen, but
I will still scream, scream
breath of my
lungs bellowing wild fire
until I have emptied
so much the remains boil
helpless foam and the body
sags as a spent candle.
Perhaps then you
will believe all
thepains
in me
is not to scold
but because it cannot
be borne.