I hate you so much.
I hate you the way an alcoholic hates his family
because he wants to be told he’s not crazy
he just wants to know he’s okay
so he has justification to drive back into the bottle.
I want to touch your hand,
fingertip by fingertip by fingertip,
easing the poison out of your calloused hands,
you don’t deserve the sweet indulgence of death.
I want to feel the ice coursing through your withered veins
run thin by the loathsome vinegar of truth,
watch the blood drain from the gaps in your sinful smile,
leaving you hollow like pages of your godless bible.
slithering like the temptation in your serpent’s eyes,
standing naked at the foot of your bed
to reveal the glassy skin stained red by devotion to hell I’ve never known.
I want to taste the copper on your lips,
trace the contours of your manifested evils,
the monsters that crawl beneath your flesh,
leaving you screaming on the ground at my feet,
and only then can I truly experience your intentions,
seeing your at your weakest point,
and yet still consumed by your own self-righteousness.
Only then do I realize,
I love you
hate you so much.