An Angry Poem 14 Hours Later


Bad start to a day.

Bad sleep.

Bad dreams.

Bad nausea all night.

Bad work day ahead.

Bad work week ahead.

Bad weather forecast.

Only baggy, ill-fitting underwear left.

Sense of reality is hazy at best, let alone ability to pretend like normal is real.

Not sure if the bread is still good to make a sandwich for lunch.

These are all my worries before I get out of bed, before my day actually starts.

Then I get out and start the shower and the water – won’t – get – hot.


(that’s code for “cuntfucker”).


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