they’re lying that tell you
it feels bad
to hate
it’s the best kind of being right
make up some bullshit
about it being a disease—
it’s the finest kind of principle
it stands on solid ground
welcomes the accusations and
smiling shows you to a thousand books
a thousand proofs of concept
philosophy and law
indeed
they say hate is inarticulate—
a very great lie
that leaves you unprepared
for its timely words
indeed
the world demands hate—
it can fill your cup
a billion times
with the bitter enormity
of everything
despair on despair
misery on broken life
and it will never
blink.
then again
if we did everything
the world seemed to demand
we’d be long dead—
what an awful life anyway
to do everything right
in a perfect logic—
the rules are hardly there
to help you win
