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It's really unfair to just give one of your senses over to the pleasure of describing an emotion.

Anger tastes like blood in your mouth. It smells like the perfume she wore on that Friday night she went out to go shopping, it hurts like a knife stabbing at your heart. Anger is the growing roar of a thunderstorm, the building violence of a hurricane, the unstoppable force of a Ford Thunderbird at a hundred miles per hour colliding with the thin plywood wall of a motel. Anger is the howling wind in your ears, the drowning drone of a million bees. Anger is swaddling cloth, it is bleach, it is fresh earth, and sweat on your brow. Anger is a swirl of red and blue, it is the air horn blaring in your ears. Anger is the taste of watered-down mashed potatoes, the swirl of filtered water, the stale bite of overcooked vegetables. Anger is confinement, resentment, depression.

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14y ago

What else can I help you with?