Love
An acidic emotional response that echoes all that’s wrong with the heartless
An idealised crap storm of all the echoing ills of a societies values turned to peppered dust
For the happy humming hoard of all discontents opposing hatred it fits a noose to the smiling damned
Bad Love
The happy humming hoard cowardly curl into foetal balls in that lone lit corner, a leather clad mistress to diabolically purge their wretched looks of perpetual motioning happiness from dumb struck faces
The dark clad shadow of a man raises tones to satisfyingly burn a perpetual motioning fear from contorted faces, better men faltering with the begging eyes of venomous jealousy for all that black clad god of a figure possesses
Two voices raise hellion volumes of spiteful poison in an exchange to match war zones over the seemingly innocent act of failed coffee making, an eventful days outing from the stammered shuffle of a mornings lie
She takes a glass to the shatter and rough cut curses to his fractured shouting as in the balance a bitch rises to the challenge, he takes a coffee mug to the floor in propelled fashion with offensive words scattershot all over her perfect figure of rageful intentions
M: Bitch You are powerful…
W: Bar steward You are strong…
M: Slut You’re damn sexy…
W: Pig You put nature to shame…
M: Whore You’re animalistic…
W: Dinosaur I love that you’re stubborn…
M: Witch You own me…
W: Relic You are my drug…
Better minds in overwhelming miscalculation place such heavy shame on the callously shot words from a threatenly loaded mind, cheapened labels of misappropriate and uncaring to colour two persons verbally distasteful trade in false perceived ideals
Lower an edge of corrupting acid into the perceptions and eschew where normality mercifully fell to understand by mortal cost the hidden meanings, see the bad love between two fatally flawed individuals as where once the level sat ill of positive denotation, is just the flip side of a coin
Love a word abortively used for the realities so beautifully twisted, hatred flown hearts need not the relentless bitching of pity but a stronger vice to bind in chains a sword dance of emotionally damaged attraction
Ghost of a Shadow 