Outside at 5:25 this morning to find my poetry notebook
The garden stank of flowers, shit, and other putrefying sweets
I hate sweet things,
I hate flowers
I hate sunshine
I hate cake
At a birthday party once, an older girl coated my face with cake when she promised she wouldn't
I hate girls.
I always did hate getting dirty.
I hate everything except the sterile tang of hospital rooms
I blame my father.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.