it's odd to be so angry, enough to identify the feeling
because feelings I can't identify.
bad prose and illusion-comments.
it's strange to be so angry, but I guess I always was
because this dasein is mine.
it's Confrontation Friday. I find myself hiding behind a wall
built from mask-bricks, and shine a light on fear
dirty and drab in its corners.
this feels better, my anger.
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