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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 o â¦ n that Friday night she went out to go shopping, it hurts like a knife stabbing at your heart.nger 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.
Forgiveness seems like the ultimate betrayal of yourself. You donât want to give up the fight for justice after what has happened to you. The anger is burning inside you and pumping toxicity throughout your system. You know that, but you canât let it go. The anger is as inseparable a part of you as your heart or mind or lungs. I know the feeling. I know the second heartbeat that is fury. But hereâs the thing about anger: itâs an instrumental emotion.