in whose way may i convey
this sordid confession~
the rough lace of dying taste buds
in agony's pain

feeling warm air escaping
judgment deserved,
to leave tender chills
up the spine-twisted lie

i hate you

this feeling

of exemplary solitude punctured
of never, never ever enough
to satisfy the lost longing
only to betray the consumption
of expensive knowledge

i hate you

your misleading disguise
to glorify the hopelessness of hope
only to dash them in the
mud-smeared plain jane reality

i hate, hate, hate

my guile
that has led me down this path
to nowhere