I have an explosive temper

My temper is explosive, and my heart
wrenches when you call my name, but
I scream at the bird who chirps at midnight
and the Swedish Fish who disappoint with
their unsoftness and overchewiness.

My temper is explosive, and my ears
ring with the tinge of regret and the
faint outline of fear in the border of
Mexico.

Don't call me in the wrong way and
Don't prod my ribs with the toe of
your steel tipped words. The
negatives of my film are appearing and I
don't believe in what I used to. When I remember
the words I shouted at the mirror and
the reflection I smashed with an attitude
of recalcitrance and stubborn imitation, it
haunts me around every corner and within the concavity of
every spoon I eat with.

When will my endless rhapsody sound its
last note? I force it upon those who
destroy the lined paper that hold my secrets.

My temper is explosive, and my mind
tells me I'm the dictator, the ruler, the queen.
But my only subject disobeys my commands
and the nation of my emotions is
constantly in revolt.

The loyalists are few and the revolutionaries
will soon overtake.

Beware the revolution; beware the free,
they only speak their mind, without a thought
to future consequences.
Mexico.