Love and Hate


I like NYC yellow taxi cabs.
I like London phone booths,
even if they smell like piss on a Friday night.

I like rust on fences and drain pipes.
Just because, I do.
I like fishnet stockings on other women,
nearly as much as I like the way it sounds when you
rip them.
Intentionally, of course.

I don’t like satin or silk or mohair. Or
suede, or velvet.
I don’t like bling or gold.
But I do like beads and copper.
I also like hoodies and freckles,
stutters and mutterers.

I like kissing. I like that I am a narcissist.
I enjoy the facial expressions as that becomes clear
to those near.
I like that I can read people, in ways that
make them uncomfortable.
I like that most people who meet me are
intimidated, and don’t really know why.
Nor do I.
But it makes me smile, and I am flattered.
I like that I know how to punch.
And that fear is not an emotion I entertain. I don’t
buy it drinks, and listen to it’s sad story.
Of lost glory.
I like being in control. But I don’t like when people
are easily led by their weaknesses.
I love the smell of coffee, and way the air
creeps through your clothes before
a thunder storm.
Like foreplay.
Before the burst, where the world is
washed clean of all it has seen
that day.
I like knives, and guns, and candles, and cable ties.
I like sex, and the adrenalin.
I don’t like being needed. I don’t like holding hands.
I am not a cuddler, or a hugger, or a whisperer of sweet nothings.
Thats all they are…   nothings.
Nothings that are only somethings when
your mind is ablaze,
and your every muscle becomes relentless in its
quest to ‘be’ more than just the words you speak.

I don’t like sunshine.
I don’t like small talk and I don’t like lies.
I don’t like that I have to monitor my communication style,
so that those around me remain calm and seated.
I loathe shallow and superficial interactions.
I abhor false flattery, in words that come smelling
of roses and bull shit.
I like being real. I like my version of real.
I like olives.

I dislike my neighbor and his fucking dog.
I like that his wife wont look me in the eye.
One day I will ask her why.
I love Bach, and I love that a Cello has to be held,
like you are making love to it. That is music.
I love duct tape.
I love black lace.
I especially am fond of dream catchers and
Tarot cards.
I love the city.
I hate wearing seat belts.

I am indifferent…   about recycling.
I am apathetic about pretty much everything
something happens.
Could be a small thing. I hate that.
Or it could be a big thing that makes my heart beat.
I love that.

10 thoughts on “Love and Hate

  1. I am not a cuddler, or a hugger, or a whisperer of sweet nothings. <- Damn I'm good… little narcissistic personal party I'm having right now as I read this haha. I just want to throw this word amongst some others "prescient"

    All goofing off aside. This is exceptional writing.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You asked before…? I’ve read to much of your stuff now I assume that you’re messing with me… I feel a pain where my heart use to be.

    The short answer is skype. I saw you had an account. or any kind of data app communication.

    Liked by 1 person

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