I Have a Headache and I Hate Everything That Happened Today

I’m so mad about so much, but I’m trying not to be.
Rage is just a feeling. It’s like when you bury yourself
in hot sand at the beach and play dead.
None of it matters. You’re alive still and the sun’s out
and next to you is a pretty girl reading a magazine.
The tide is just washing in and out like the tide.
Seagulls are making their joyful and terrible sounds.
Where you are sad there is no pretty girl, though.
No sunshine, no magazine. Where you are sad
there is only yourself in your own stupid body.
And nobody wants you. Nobody has even noticed
you are missing; nothing you left behind smells like you.
Sadness is the girl and it’s the absence of the girl.
It’s crying all day about anything. A leaf, for example, falling.