Hate
A poem about alternatives
I used to say hate to people, objects possessions the dispossessing fragments of creativity changing sediments layers of years one by one pressed down upon one
but most things are not bloody two-shoes flickers, horror movies ultimate the end most things are not to be hated most things lead perfect, pleasant tick-tock shelf-lives unseen unmoved unmoving
not you, I know and not me not even when I used to say love
