← verse
Tempest of Temper
Anger as weather the body cannot outrun.
Anger arrives as pressure change — jaw locked, vision narrowed, the room suddenly too small for the argument it contains.
The narrative does not romanticize the storm. It records the damage: judgment clouded, relationships scorched at the edges, a residue of bitterness that lasts longer than the flash.
Temper is not power. It is combustion mistaken for clarity.
When the weather clears, the furniture still smells of smoke.
The jaw unlocks one notch. The smoke remains.
JV · Dark Heart Labs