The Wanlorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_wanlorn) wrote2005-07-22 02:14 pm
the_wanlorn) wrote2005-07-22 02:14 pm
Entry tags:
RAWR
I am furious right now.
I want to break shit and throw things around. I want to hear glass shatter as it hits the floor or the wall or the door. I want the sound of wood splintering and cracking to fill my ears. I want to hurl a thousand bouncyballs at a wall as hard as I can and watch as they destroy everything in their path. I want electronics strewn across floor, cases split open, a rainbow of wires tripping up anyone who walks in. I want to smash my printer, sending the insides on a fritz so that it spews ink-covered paper until the plug is ripped from the wall, still connected to the faceplate and hangs there, limp and dead. I want my metal lunchboxes to be rendered useless, full of dents in the shape of my feet. I want the walls to crumble and gape holes, exposing the innards of the house. I want to be able to reach in and tear out handfuls of wiring and insulation, gutting it with my bare fists. I want to squeeze a stress ball until the fingernails break through and meet the flesh of my palm. I want to keep going, keep squeezing until my fingers slice through the flesh and meet tendon and bone. I want to slap bloody handprints on the walls, on the floor, on the doorknob. I want to rip pages from books, destroy the words and tear the covers in twain. I want the lightbulbs smashed on broken, the filaments twisted and snapped, the shades shatterd and gashed, glass shards littering the floor, fabric coverings ripped and gaping. I want the bottles of spray conditioner, spaz juice, water, body spray, lotion, all of them to burst under the weight of my rage and make the floor slick with their juices, since I can't wet it with blood.
Know what's the best part? I have no clue why.
I want to break shit and throw things around. I want to hear glass shatter as it hits the floor or the wall or the door. I want the sound of wood splintering and cracking to fill my ears. I want to hurl a thousand bouncyballs at a wall as hard as I can and watch as they destroy everything in their path. I want electronics strewn across floor, cases split open, a rainbow of wires tripping up anyone who walks in. I want to smash my printer, sending the insides on a fritz so that it spews ink-covered paper until the plug is ripped from the wall, still connected to the faceplate and hangs there, limp and dead. I want my metal lunchboxes to be rendered useless, full of dents in the shape of my feet. I want the walls to crumble and gape holes, exposing the innards of the house. I want to be able to reach in and tear out handfuls of wiring and insulation, gutting it with my bare fists. I want to squeeze a stress ball until the fingernails break through and meet the flesh of my palm. I want to keep going, keep squeezing until my fingers slice through the flesh and meet tendon and bone. I want to slap bloody handprints on the walls, on the floor, on the doorknob. I want to rip pages from books, destroy the words and tear the covers in twain. I want the lightbulbs smashed on broken, the filaments twisted and snapped, the shades shatterd and gashed, glass shards littering the floor, fabric coverings ripped and gaping. I want the bottles of spray conditioner, spaz juice, water, body spray, lotion, all of them to burst under the weight of my rage and make the floor slick with their juices, since I can't wet it with blood.
Know what's the best part? I have no clue why.
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