Hate

and I’m back to
repeating mantras.

morning’s brutal emptiness, and
we’re writing about the agony
without
commas.

all these crystalline harbingers
of impending drama,
but I’m the only actor on the goddamn
stage.

lately I’ve consummated flashback reveries
with black-out rage;
trapped in cages of carnivalesque hatred — and I
hate to say it,
but I wake up every single day
drunk on
bitterness.

liver-drowned swimming pools,
and the hate is
fucking gasoline
without ethanol.

I took away your breath
and all you wanted me to
become — and I’m sorry about that. but

your retaliation outweighed my accidental attacks
so disproportionately
that
the scales
are finally tipped in my
grotesque favor.

barely legible anger, but
I promise my
mistakes
were honest.

sauna-hot
fuck-ups, but
your vengeance is an ice-cold
hornet’s nest.

forgive the forced rhymes, but
my chest is beating so hard I’m hallucinating
the days
before I almost let you
save me.

baby, don’t hate me
for coming around,
despite everything
we did.

I never meant
a word of it
anyways.

Willie Watt
4.13.17

 

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2 thoughts on “Hate

  1. “all these crystalline harbingers
    of impending drama,
    but I’m the only actor on the goddamn
    stage.”

    boom! this is amazing

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