Burping of evidence so full a belly

Consuming a meal of porportions

So to, ashes from a fire. Bubbles from soap. Laughter from tickles.

Blank stares though, from what?  A lack of notions? Fatigue?

There is ample room then, for many questions.

Anger though… Ah, now there is something from somewhere, someplace, sometimes…

to savor.

For all actions of all. From which to and to when and for all… a reasonable expectation as to why and how or even question…

But ANGER! Yes. Such a lovely word. To say “Go fuck yourself!” All without reason, without warrant or question, all because…You can.

Thus, it is

this feeling of being alive, as when to feel anger really means the world is not yet

dead.