hate is something that is born out of a moment,
a spurt of energy channeled through the flesh, the word, and the air in the lungs.
the mind plays a part and the body performs the dance,
like Shiva, consuming all that is not stable enough to survive it.
no sound can ever exemplify the satisfaction,
of a howl and the gritting of jaws and the stabbing your palms with your nails.
like wittgenstein's rose in between the creatures jagged teeth,
as fast as neurons can carry the poison,
the medicine for the soul of he who has been trampled.
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