Hate room

And I have to sit here in my hate room.

You said there was an energy here that was more than me and that I had to discover it in order to find my “voice.” That’s how you have always been, so you use it as an excuse to talk the way you talk.

And I have to suffer in my hate room, and you in your incense factory where everyone is equal. You say you have no leader. You do.

You told me I have to search for myself and get out of my hate room, but you pronounced it differently. You pronounced it wrong. You said it like you say everything.

And me in my hate room, I can see you through the window. You’ve got your handmade curtains and I’ve got my boards. You in your love room, but it’s a chemical love. You don’t even know what a love room is, you just like how it looks hanging from the mantle. “Better than a deer’s skull,” you said.

The saddest thing is that when you read this you’ll think I fashioned my hate room after you.