is not a contradiction.
I don’t believe it myself right at this moment
this morning where I wake to discouragement of days
even in and amongst my everything and so much and even
amongst my blessed I wake
chest-achingly disgustingly frustrated
raging quietly so as to not wake the sleeping naive
they do not need to know the truth of the doubt
what happens when the fist I shake and the cuss words I throw only shake and resound against a
hollow rising sun?
what happens to these days?