Déjà vécu

It gets tiring.

It opens
and closes
again
and again
and again.

I stare.

Don't they know...

how horror
and fascination
are closer than they
were thought to be?

How pain
and pleasure
are more similar
than imagined?

How hope
and desperation
more entwined
than it appeared?

Do you even hear,
understand
the reflection
in the mirror

Asking
begging
pleading
for you to stop?

Don't you know?

Hate is
just another name
for love.

And no greater crime
exists
than hatred.


Unless you despise your chains -



Hate me.