in the grip of strong feeling

I have this mathematical theory of ingratitude
that, three months, four days and 6 hours ago.
was submitted for publication in the Journal
of Grudges and Self Pity.
It was received,
subjected to peer review
and ultimately rejected.

"Your data is flawed...",
the word came back,
from the editors.
"Your methodology suspect,
your controls inadequate."

"Sons of bitches."
I spat, threw the letter down.
"I won't forget this", I said.

I slammed the door and
walked outside
to give my dudgeon a little space.