Glug. You heard me.. Glug.
I hate on the frustrating walls of these tombs
I hate on breakfast, murky, sludge in the grud-light
I hate the sound of voices, shrill, nails popping toasters
I hate the amber glow of dog hair
slipping down another thick throat.
I hate, I hate chain link fences
the effort to understand that slips
into the dread pit
of the heart place.
I hate patterns
I hate chaos
I hate simplicity
I hate complications
I love my foot banging the black side
of the file cabinet, ringing me up
reminder that pain is life,
life is random
choices fleeting and illusory
so make it a good run, a good run-
with your throb foot pounding
the black tar
of another fucking day.