The Invisible Lyssa

I am weightless in my rage

like a wayward feather with
edges singed and embers trailing
through the inferno of my fury

and I wish, more than anything
to have significant mass and
momentum in my fists (clenched)
knuckles (white)

I float above and underneath
never at the center of my disdain
in reach, but never grasping
trapped in a crematorium of nothingness
set ablaze in stationary discontent

I am weightless in my rage

with mounds of ash I
sculpt a mouth and scream
yet still I burn
loathing the weight of
you