my Bad Days come in capital letters
starting with mornings overslept
and greasy, greasy hair
red lights glaring through the fog

and punctuated by sneaking feelings
creeping through damp underbrush
peering out and launching onto ankles

self-doubt. anxiety. fear.
two a.m. feelings striking at a quarter to nine in the morning.
i am having an existential crisis in math class.
blue marker on white board and all i can think about is
why was i put on this great green world

  and how
there are tiny organisms that could fit in my eye
and we don't know what the bottom of the sea looks like
and the first person i ever loved was a capricorn

in the morning i stumble out of gray sheets
crawl along cold tile and count four little orange pills
so that today maybe today
i won't wonder why i was made a person and not a river

some days i wake up
and the sky is tinged with blue and pink
my heart makes sounds of sweet muses

those days are not good
they are average

but i do not feel average
i feel good.