let me shed the hate
that ill applies to anger although consummate
unluckily discerned by trinity and bred
by esoteric tragedies and regular neglect
I hate the allegation falsely wetly kept
in synchronized conspiracy and intersecting needs
I hate the condescension even subtly felt
I hate consuming hatred as it sticks like itch
I hate the hating for compelled and overwhelmed by it
I cannot come to terms with expiatory peace
I hate you with a hate that only I deserve
for espousing inefficiency I succeed to keep
deep in introspection when I in quiet speak
to God Who knows I’m never better
after a digested death.
__________________
Abraham de la Torre
