Some Things I Hate

Poetry

How the Moon never sleeps. Why the Sun never wishes me goodnight. Long goodbyes and short kisses, my father’s cough, my mother’s kitchen. Things that end: Stormy Sundays, long hot showers, lazy mornings, bedtime stories. Great sex and sloppy blowjobs. The NeverEnding Story.

People with silent laughs, delayed trains, people who are late. My own laugh, how I’m always early, how I inevitably have to wait. I hate waiting. For calls, messages, dreams, for sleep to take me, the dawn to wake me, my impatience for later, my patience for now. For the words I want to hear from people’s mouths. How I’m always asking why.

The asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. If I was god I would have caught that asteroid like a pebble and flung it somewhere else. I don’t care where.

Poor liars. People with big mouths and small ears. Slam poetry, gesticulation and shouting trying to make up for a lack of meaning… and spiders. Spiders’ eyes, spiders’ legs, spiders’ bodies. Spiders waiting, watching, crawling. Spiders fucking, under worn warped floorboards, behind the back of my fridge, in the pipe in the upstairs bathroom sink. In my dreams… I hate spiders.