it was like a sink that was overflowing, built up and up and up.

then it was drained; the pipes rusted over; the slight drip and drip and drip.

tantalizing.

then the water rushed like geysers do, hot and momentarily solid.

Formerly titled "An Ode to A Wasteland"

I don't hate you. I never have, I promise.

There's moments, glimpses, murmurs in my head

that I think maybe

maybe I hate you