Anger

Anger
So much anger.
It fills my back, arms
Doesn’t know where to go
Doesn’t fit any formula
Can’t escape
I can’t escape myself
Can’t escape this room.

Who am I?
And who is this?
She wants to break something
Smash my own hand, maybe
Or my skull.

Quite plausibly this has been here 
For eons
and will remain
Unchanged.
One day they will find my bones
And the anger will still be 
right there

What does movement even mean
to this timeless, monstrous density
What does air mean to gravity
A gentle breeze meets the void
What is the meaning of flow
at the end of time?