Poetry (words)

Scribblings

I hate sitting on chairs where my feet don’t reach the ground, where I have to shift forward to make that contact. 

I hate the cold that numbs my fingertips, never my fingers just the tips. I always place them on my ribs just to check how cold they are.

I hate coffee that isn’t sweet enough. Lukewarm showers and boots that rub my ankles. 
I hate running out of things to say. Awkward silences. Hollow promises. Flowers that wilt on their second day. 

I hate remote controls, channel hoppers. Television as background noise. Capitalism, war, greed. Shallowness and snobbery.

I hate running for the bus. Forgetting all the things I should have said. When time stands still….it’s always at the wrong time. 

Hate is probably too strong a word, but you know what I mean. 

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