what is it, about hatred, that's so tempting?
as inviting as the red apple (i.e. symbolic sin that surpasses time and meaning)
a moment so absolutely wonderful that it
drips sour, revolting madness (fyi-it's an acquired taste)
and the greatest thing is that you do it and you don't even know
if you were told, you'd laugh it off. shrug,
who cares? you think. not me, and that's the only person that matters.