I hate you
Who
Found the chink in my skin
Let the morning’s dew in
Sting sings
My blood to boiling
Even as it saps
The powerhouse
For the punch
That would evaporate
You
All at once
Punch pulled
Your face still there
Hands cold
Wavering in the air
There is nothing to strike
Truth be told
You are merely an illusion
Bought and sold
Atom bomb
Hold
Hold
Fold
The energy in
Deep water
Cold
Soft boil
Of a hundred bombs
Hissing
And me
Just humming along
Everything is ok
You don’t
Really
Give a fuck
Anyway