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?