Exit music for a film

Oh dear dear dears,

I rage a lot. I do rage pilates. I drink rage wine. And this isn’t the good rage like a party rager where you stay up all night and throw lamps and eat large bowls of cereal at 3 am.

This is the quiet underneath my skin rage all the time at the injustices of the world. Until I am raged to a breaking point. I am comforted by the fact that we are all in this together and that we care and we will fight.

But also in this era of extreme hate, I have become more numb to loss.

Rejections from poetry are seen as well, North Korea hasn’t nuked us yet, I have time to send out more. Sure the editor doesn’t like it, but is that really worse than catastrophic climate change?

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