I always thought that there is a strong relationship between love and hatred. An intense relationship. Shockingly real. Telling. The amount you are capable of loving him/her, is the amount with which you can hate him/her as well. At times.
Wrote this on an angry night. When the storm within failed to match the storm without.
There was
a flower
on your eyebrow.
I plucked it,
placed it on the
chimney
with your smile.
Your turn honey- burn, burn.
Die.
You numbskull,
pathetic,
cruel machine.
You don’t know
how I fumed
from that chimney.
For you, man.
You said you will return
But never did.
Sick, soulless,
mad,
psycho con.
You are wasted
Just like
your scum.
Retard,
Take the noose and hang.
The smell
of your fuck-
is white, rapacious.
Your beautiful eyes?
Hold on or I will dig
them blind.
That flower bloomed
In Autumn.
You,
plucked it
saying-
“It bloomed before
its time.”
The smoke burns your eye?
Baby, it is my soul
burning tonight.
Blind!
