Hate
Gushing warm tides
swallowing whole its target.
A daze of control sets inside
its participant.
Flowing through control’s cracks,
its porous facade of truth,
Unable to control its own
self hurt
Slashes at its surroundings,
to produce a controlled space for
an uncontrolled self.
It feels good to throw passionate rage
at others, because for once in a long
while, this rage impacts something
else besides yourself.
Oh what blissful release I will feel
at death
to learn how to control this uneven,
flowering hatred to myself, and
realize I really do love myself.
This hurts.
Graeme Evenson is a fourth year history major starting an MA in International Studies. I can relate or explain nearly anything through analogies about music.