Hate begins here.
A dark, coagulating chasm
where our love gets sent back
again and again.
It gathers,
thickens,
dies,
with a scream and fury and pain and pressure and desperation
we push against it.
and a whimper.
our sputtering emotions flays us stochastically,
trickling our warm compassion over every other part of us
tainted with putrid black flecks of spite,
and bubbles of ghostly "please"es.
All our protest and futility
wedges it here --
in this malignant crevice of memory --
deeper and denser
deeper
denser
when if only we could

stop.

It could break
free.
   if
    only