I Hate

I hate small talks, and short walks, the skin-burning sun, people having meaningless fun,

the city life, the interweb, our education system;

I hate haircuts, headaches, heartaches, handshakes, homophobes, and homelessness.

I hate humans in general, people who don't keep a journal;

I hate hypocrisy, jealousy, insomnia, hierarchy, technology,

morning breath, loneliness, myself,

festivals, spectacles, testicles, condoms, consiceness, cars, chairs, bimbos, smoke,

spiders, writer's block, gluttony, all my teachers but one, anyone and everyone;

I hate lipsticks, chick-flicks, sycophants, men who use deodorants, poets on Instagram, and kids that Facebook rather than chase books.

I hate the stupid girls clicking selfies in the middle of the class, boys even more.

I hate broken dreams, train journeys, waking up late, sitting among assholes in class, being sick. I hate my ability to emphasize.

I hate the cattle in metro, slaves of their stupid cell-phones.

I hate politics or people talking about politics;

I hate that the government is trying to control our minds,
terrorists trying to put fear into our hearts.

I hate change.

I hate social constructs; I hate myself being a victim of social constructs.

I hate capitalism and consumerism.

I hate being an idealist, and I hate it when people tell me to live in the real world.

I hate non-punctuality, the fact that I can't defy gravity; weddings, trains, buses, all kinds of social gatherings, political boundaries, and wrong pronunciations.

I hate May, the coming month and the gone girlfriend. I hate it when my mom turns on the lights of my room. I hate it when my dad comes home drunk.

I hate the sound of the clock on sleepless nights.

I hate talkative barbers and taxidrivers, feigned politeness and sham sweetnes, couples objectifying each other,

fathers and mothers who don't know how to raise a kid but have a dog, two cats and a parrot and a turtle and a shark.
My birthmark.

I hate pets, meaningless bets, creepy insects, cigarettes, loud noises, and empty threats.

I hate other's happiness, crowded places, people who don't read;

the freaks in my gym, those narcissistic assholes who don't know how to spell intellect.

I hate the mass murder of greenery.

I hate dogs, the concept of jobs, shitty blogs, tight clothes, broken roads, Virgos, the assholes who spit on those roads.

I hate spicy food, wearing shoes, the color blue, things untrue, a stinky loo, words like bae and boo, and tattoos.

I hate photographs. I hate the concept of zoo: bringing animals from their home to a strange place which they cannot come to like, and keep them alone in big chambers with no lover, father, or daughter; I don't get it why people find it exciting to look at sad tigers or melancholic peacocks. What is it about clicking photographs? I hate photographs.

I hate the erosion of nature and humanity. I hate the fact that I cannot turn people to dust with a snap of my fingers.

And I hate that I think things will change with summer times, "with summer times", because I know they won't.

I hate hope.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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