love has become an excuse,
a tactful way to avoid confronting
the horrors of the world,
the “solution” that wins by being convenient
for the passive to preach.
hate is the label that
we attach to the things we don’t
want to think about.
we are unreachable sufferers,
because hate is the word we use
for things too big,
the things we cannot begin to dismantle,
things we have given up understanding.
but ignoring it only cultivates more and more of it.
[written months ago one day on an envelope, but published now in light of current events]