I love blasphemy
because it's bug-eyed.
and it lets you see
more than what you're looking at.

I love irony
because it tastes like blood,
bitter and healing.
They won't know what your feeling,
and you won't either.
It's perfectly horrible.
Ironic, really.

I love guilt.
that person inside
who knows more than you.
the one who glares out through
the gaps in your ribs,
sharing the space your
heart inhabits.

I love the sound of breaking glass.
the "*******!"
gently tinkling off your mistakes
like a bell
reminding you that
beauty breaks
and the shards are sharp.