It happened again this morning. And sometimes I think, ‘your words will flow into my heart.’ My adder tongue rests in my mouth as I refuse to turn my rage on you like the Ripper’s blade. Splitting a chasm deeper than these years of erosion. Yet the river of your tongue flows, source to sea. And I wonder what have I done to fill you with such malice what can I do to set you free from the gilded anger you horde in your dragon’s cave heart? But with each spring of rage, I know I grow closer to drowning.