filth

sometimes
the only thought
on repeat
is of simple
love and joy
but i lost faith
in expressing either
as no one cares
unless they can
derive
their own pleasure
from the words

so instead
i choke them down
hoping for something
horrible
so the animals
are sated
the beauty
is only attractive
when they believe
it is them

but the pain?

that shit is universal

sometimes i worry
schadenfreude
has overtaken
love
in people’s priorities

what kind of world
does that create?

someone else’s joy
costs you
nothing

buddha said —

holding on to anger is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die

there is beauty
in the filth
we are already dirty
why not dive in

together

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