it’s hard and slick and black.
and it
weighs weighs weighs.
the weight sits, lodged in the heart of my chest.
malice.
it is sharp sided and pricks the muscle and tissue around it.
it will not let itself be forgotten.
machines will not move it.
people can not talk it up nor down.
like the castle of christ, it “shall not be moved”.
it is a weight.
and i feel it.
deep.
and it
weighs weighs weighs.
on me.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
i don’t know why but i have always liked this poem.
do you plan on submitting this one?
I too like it very much. For me it captures the phenomenon of holding anger.