SUICIDE MOTE III

I hate your phone.

I hate the distance it shows

when it deigns me to talk to you

and the shield it offers when you're not in.

I hate you answering machine

which protects me

from your ethereal presence

� though not your voice.

I hate your email

full so quickly

abandoning so many of my random rants.

I hate your mailman

who comes back

shrugging

unaware of what he had just accomplished

� or not.

I hate your receptionist

and I hate your doorbell

and I hate your door

and I hate your lock

and I hate your clothes.

I hate so much

so many things about you and yours

which somehow fails to impact

on my feelings for the whole.

previous - next - contact me - older entries - latest entry - profile