Well, Color Me Patrice

Hate is a Strong Word

I hate the flowers.

I hate the trees.

I hate the sky.

I hate the earth.

Impassioned anger is better than empty love.

Passion stirs my heart to evil.

So lately I’ve been thinking about the maxim “Violence is never the answer.”  Specifically, I’ve been considering the fact that its a fundamentally erroneous viewpoint.  Really, violence is a rather practical solution if the opposing party is weak.  Efficiency trumps the development of any sort of moral lens in my book.  Granted, I sliced my book into bite-size papyrus pieces with my own ribcage.  Look there, a prime example that proves my point!

Skull and bones

Death

So near, yet so far

Oh, what a hogbog life is!

Here’s a poem inspired by a nasty papercut:

Red goo

Gushing from my finger

Dripping on the cotton tablecloth

And how like cherry juice it blots the surface

With its inky contents, blurring the void with veracity

Blood Splatter

P-art-ice