where it belongs

if I had a plan!
I make so many.
since i was a child, scraps of paper full of little things.
and when the balm of writing them wears off, to move
never able to tackle the enormity of the problem; having identified the enemy

I still do not have a clear view of it.
Where are its horns?
Where is its belly?
How does it truly chain me?

Surely it has some weakness, some ticking-stuffed soft palate, that i can stab & twist!
___&twist!
___&twist!
rage, my god, my rage is obscene
and worrying. I could kill someone.
worse, I could live with it.

worst, I have to hold it back.
that's another plan.
that's another quiet thing I do, while I clean the bathroom and fold our
clothes.