it is a regular morning.
i wake up while it is still dark outside
and stare at the blue of my mobile screen
until the static in my head becomes white noise
or is that brown?
i don’t know but i do know
it signals at me to get out of bed.
she gets out of bed with me.

i sense her crawling over my skin.
i can feel her as i go about the start to my day.
i switch on the motor that pumps up
my daily quota of water. for a moment,
i consider the possibility of a power outage,
and she crawls into my hair, making it frizz
into a temporary crown.

i carry her around, and i wonder
why she is so quiet today, of all days,
a day when she has every right to lash out
and hurt people and bite me until
i am bleeding and worn.
has the fight left her?
have i drained the fight out of her?
i am equal parts anxious and worried and terrified.

i sit down to write, and she crawls back
into my gut. i think she will settle there.
i sense her moving around, dark and venomous,
a hooded beauty, both awful and awesome.
the therapist says my anxiety makes my gut upset,
that all my stomach problems are related to stress
but i know it’s her, moving around
and finding a place to settle, sometimes nipping
at the soft lining until i want to throw up.

but today, she doesn’t settle.
my stomach is churning. the fear makes my crown dance.
she moves out of the gut and into my womb.
and i know i will hold still while she finds her spot.
i sense her judging me with her fierce eyes,
evaluating my strength, weighing what i will do
if she lets loose.

i want her to calm down, to coil up and go to sleep.
i want a productive day, not one where i have to
go home, feigning sickness
because the rage serpent has awakened
and is doing her dance of destruction
beating against and biting the insides of my organs,
coiling herself around my shoulders and
keeping them in a permanent state of tension.

she wants me to unleash her into the world.
she wants me to let her do the talking for me.
she wants to save me, to avenge me.
she wants to show my tormentors their place.
i feed her music from the 70s, poems of
love and agony, pictures of cats, chats with friends,
and screenshots of old messages from the man I love.
i stretch and work out, and she falls back,
hissing and spiteful.

she will bite me today, in places that will bleed
for days on end. my rage serpent does not like to be quelled,
even if it is with love.
someone has to bear the brunt of it
and today, like most other days, i choose to be that person.
i protect the ones who hurt me,
and the ones who will be collateral damage
from the venom of my rightful rage,
absorbing it into my bloodstream
and accepting it for what it is.
my destiny.