I wish I could tell

how much of my fiery
venom
was really the product
of seeing
the bones of the
helpless being
crushed in smirking
indifference,
and how much was
simply the outcome
of neurons
gone berserk,
and the useless
frustration of
not being able to
eviscerate
the tired demons
that even now still
sit on my shoulder,
yawning as they stab me
with
bored, practiced,
nonchalance.