you're angry you don't want any one to know you're angry you don't want to be define by your anger you don't want to appear to others to be aggressive and filled with aggression you repress it until you can no longer bear the pressure of the oppressive depression you start to speak startling those who didn't know you could talk you start to spew words out our mouth sending others scrambling to make meaning of what you're saying trying to make sense of the language of anguish and agony of the heart moaning grief misery sorrow suffering torturing of the unscrupulous mask covering the face of the emotional pain of the past telling it like it is like it was how it feels individually all matters give rise to public disagreement if I let out a loud cough hock a loogie out my mouth and call it art who can disagree with me other than say "that's nasty" that's the the point it's nasty it's always been nasty and sickening to the stomach when did it ever taste good it always leaves a bitter taste in the mouth which justifies spitting on a blank canvas