try as I may, it’s that bad

Equal parts, disillusionment & delusion
Factoring in variables of changes in weather
Temper controllable or beyond my command
Wishful thinking or careful planning
Friend of the devil, eternally damned
Short-changed at the checkout, voicing demands
Error, error, everywhere, in denial at every turn
Taking chances making advances

Can’t save this poem, from the shit can
No way, no how, not ever

Day 8 of Restorations

The first seven hours, of the eighth day,
have passed showing progress
and groundbreaking invention,
although filled with disdain at the abuses
thrust upon the weak or the weary
by less than worthy components of the human race,
an activity certain to ready the strong of heart
sustaining the strategies incumbent to presence of mind,
while the best of the best tune in with the beat,
resounding the cry “treachery be damned!”