Desolation

You look at me with that pathetic gaze, giving me an ingratiating grin. You launch into a litany of the possible commiserable reasons to explain your actions. But it serves no purpose. Delve into your heart, miserable soul, and you will not find a single emotion worthy of any anthropic being. You presence itself, is a sign full of portent.


I hate you, man in the mirror. I hate you.