Add poems from the past year

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+---
+title: I wanted to tell you something
+genre: verse
+
+project:
+    title: Autocento of the breakfast table
+    css: autocento
+...
+
+I wanted to tell you something in order to \
+explain the way I feel about the Universe, \
+its workings, etc.  But I couldn't yesterday \
+---I'm sorry---I wanted only to ball \
+myself up and cry all day.  It was the sixteenth \
+day in a row this happened to me, and to be
+
+more than two weeks waiting to cry is, \
+especially when, the whole time, I wasn't able to, \
+absolutely horrible.  It was no sweet sixteen, \
+I'll tell you that much.  Unless at yours, the Universe \
+kept telling you to quit having such a ball \
+and that you should have died, like, yesterday.
+
+At first, it feels like you're winning--that yesterday \
+you really were meant to die, but since you still _are_, \
+you beat the system somehow.  But the Universe bawls, \
+"No, I meant you should've crawled into \
+a hole and fucking _died_!"  And then the Universe \
+punches you right in the gut, something like sixteen
+
+times, and all you can think is, "Some sixteenth \
+birthday!  Maybe I will go die in a hole."  Yesterday, \
+at times like this, is a luxury the cruel Universe \
+refuses to give you.  This is when it's a pain just to _be_, \
+when that Marvell line about "rolling our stuff into one ball" \
+just seems glib, when you don't want one body, let alone two.
+
+Something else that may come as a surprise to \
+you: over the past more-than-a-fortnight, these sixteen \
+days, I've had nothing to eat but crackers and a cheese ball.  \
+(That's not entirely true---yesterday \
+I had some candy, peppermints and Jujubes.) \
+Maybe this is why I'm so mad at the Universe---
+
+because all it has ever wanted, this Universe \
+that gave me life, fed me from its breast til I was two, \
+and even before that, made a place in which I could be--- \
+all it's wanted was for me to take the sixteen \
+steps to sobriety, fold the Eight-Fold Path over yesterday \
+and step around it lightly, as I would an exercise ball,
+
+but the problem is, dear Universe, there's no way I could be \
+something as hard as all that, to wake up yesterday \
+morning, stretch over my sixteen selves, bound out like a ball.