Angry at all things, always arduous.

Bored with being broken.

Crossed at coming across cranky and crazy.

Drained and dismayed with dealing in downs. 

Enraged at being expendable and exhausted.

Fed up with feeling fickle.

Grave with grasping degraded gumption.

Had it with holding out hope.

I am indignant in infinite infirmities.

Justified in joyless journeys. 

Knowledge, knocking me to my knees.

Limp and lame and lastingly lost.

Maddened by my multitude of missed minutias.

Nauseated with neediness.

Overburdened owning my own obstacles

Persistently pleading for a piece of peace.

Quite Quarreled by quandaries of quintessentience. 

Ravenous for rest, recovery, or repose.

Strained for sleep, silence, or slaughter.

Trying for treatment,

Unsuccessful undertakings,

Very volatile volleying,

Wander wrecked while in the waking world.

Xenogenic exasperated existence. 

Young yet yoyoing youthfulness.

Zany zombie with no zeal or zest.

I am disabled and dismayed. 

In every day, every way. 

I long to let go. 

And find fruitfulness in my faults.