bless this day, dear diary. yeah, right. but for crying out loud, how much
lower can he possibly sink us? it so stinks being unable to get off this ride. normally, i’d go
at him and his dastardly crew on social media. but that seems useless. so i’ve taken to
cursing them, and especially him, in my personal diary. i
know, i know, this is public, this is supposed to be poetry.
this is not the poetry
i’d rather be writing. but what are rules in such times. so, for now, most
every morning, i open my journal and i type “what a dick!” and thusly, my day begins.
