I thread my body in hot dissonance –
the angry pinks leap out from an ecru field,
lashing out to assault the eye,
to offend the inferred harmonies
swelling in a sea of pretense
around my open scowl.
It is my mood,
fey and callous
that accents the palate –
a dark stain on the white fabric,
a sore-thumb crack in an over-sized button.
I lick my lips to whet the daggers of my eyes,
lit with smoldering rage,
the tiny figure hurling insults as monolithic giants,
futility in a storm,
eroded in a blink.
all that I see is frustration,
all that I know is disgust.