Anger May not be so much The nadir of failure As it is . The cinematic disparity Of crushed expectations.

Somebody scourged the man on the golf field, And somebody owned the heads of the golf game, . And these Are All Mythical Things we Make Up, . Arbitrary, So That to Hold Things together, Like a society, Is never A breath In the Wind, like A cardinal Might Bequeath When it’s wanting to die.

Finally I see how this land is dark, Because instead of having logic fully reign, It’s never logic that fully reigns, We are . Pulled into This abyss, compelled to fornicate, Compelled to Reproduce, we are Haunted by greed, Dashed By hatred for the next man over.