Love-Hate-Love

I blame you for all my shortcomings,

You’re at fault for my every inhibition

I blame you for everything that’s gone awry

You’re the reason, the single motive, behind my disposition

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love I hold

I hate you

         With my every inch of flesh & bone

I blame you for my every sin

Your very essence gnaws within

I blame you for the darkened skies,

For my shaking wrists and dampened eyes

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I hate you,

         With my every inch of breath that’s free

I blame you for misfortune

I blame you for the cold

I blame you for confusion

I blame you for the warmth

I blame you in the night

         When I can’t sleep

I blame you in the day

         When I can’t dream at all

You’ve made my every nightmare scratch and claw

Your hurt’s done more harm than even you care it to

I blame you for the insecurity

Your image paints me red

I blame you for a mind so frayed

You’ll never leave my head

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love I knew

I hate you,

         For all the lies you spewed

I blame you for my possession

You’ve made my devils love you more

I blame you for the nonchalance

The flit of hair, the bat of eye

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I blame you for every scenario spun to shine

My ideas, each and all, your symbols they’ve become  

I blame you even when,

I see you’re finality sift before me there

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I blame you for that smile, that sarcastic grin

Laughing, at me, even when I stand above you there in sin

I blame you for my actions,

For each coagulated drop that falls

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I blame you for your reaction,

Taking credit for it all

I blame you for you’re last breath,

And those words you spoke to me

Claiming yourself the victor,

In a game I didn’t know was played,

Claiming that you’ve won,

That I’m now the pawn she made

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I hate you,

         With my every beat of heart

I hate you,

         With every ounce of love in me

I hate you,

I hate you,

I love you,

I love you,

         With every ounce of hate in me

Theology of Sin

Broad strokes invade the subtlest

Placidity, with an entourage of corrosive

inhibitions, the boon of tranquility-swathed

picaresque.

Dashed by despondency and ire, inveracity

Grooms its toiled prepossession-brokering legerdemain

through generalities voiced in hearsay and

hegemony.

Salacious seeds ferment ensconced.

Suckling-in, nestled-upon, the undefiled teat

of ablution, that sees its wellspring dry in

retrocession.

A residuum of salubrious crumbs, the delicacy

for obsidian aphrodisia, effuses. Contravention’s valiance,

amidst vituperrious flood, ultimately wanes, in slumping 

abnegation.