three days to shame

Hate yourself for hating yourself. Hate yourself for the thought wasted in hating such waste as yourself. Hate yourself for the space wasted in awaiting nothing but hate. Hate your revolting persistence, your continued subsistence, your unwarranted annual distance. Hate your unfinished and unstarted work. Hate every layer of wasteful flesh, every tree-ring fear wrings from death, every breathless panicked lap around the sun. Hate the knife dancing on your skin, hate the wind not pushing you over the edge, hate the bleach sloshing harmlessly, refusing to tip over. Hate the fatigue encrusting your burnt-out neurons impeding hate your impulses and your reticence hate the mirror and the calendar hate your figurative indecency hate your literal incapacity hate your causative ambivalence hate your terminal incompetence hate the year hate every past year hate the next year hate next year's hate yourself hate your self hate yourself undeserving even of hate yourself hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate your self hate