I pushed it into a tightly bound jar
A fraction escapes in a trickle of thought
For a thrill I watch from a distance
But never hold it
Never smash it into a thousand pieces
Never free it to breathe in sobbing gasps
I feel it rise on a whim
Out of the cavernous home I made
I grasp at the edges and fold it into itself
In the pit of my scarred stomach I return it
Locking the spitting venom into place
Insisting on composure