I’ve always been friendly to you-
why did you have to do it?
You pushed me just to save you arse.
I hate your lack of humanity and loyalty.
You’re a piece of shit.
Thanks for making me loss the faith that was left.
I hate being thrown under the bus. Also literally.

I don’t know you.
I have heard about you:
You’re an Australian couple.
I left it there for you
and you trashed it.
I didn’t like it,
I didn’t want it,
yet two years I kept it.
But you trashed it.
The dumpster doesn’t rule
-Aussie rules, Ozzy rules.
I hate trashed pseudo-gifts!!!

You give me impossible measurements-
you appear when I am freezing,
you pop up when profit is loss,
and give me nightmares coloured red.
Your root led me to imaginary lands,
where I carried my own cross.
Number 6: Why you had to be so pessimistic?
Negative measures shall be taken.
I hate you, negative numbers!

They are wet and prone to grow mold.
They react to the sun by changing size and form.
They are supposed to clean,
yet they just freak me out.
I hate bathroom things!!!

They last less that an inspiration,
and they always leave you unsatisfied.
They give electrons but you feel no rush,
you just wait and wait for what they used to give.
But they don’t shock you anymore…
…as life itself lost its power.
I hate crappy batteries!

I don’t have a dog -hydrogen peroxide did it for me.
Burnt, dried, broken. I was left with no comfort.
Damn it! Why the fuck I had to see your fabric’s tears!
Death, I hate ripped fabric!

Stinks, and it doesn’t even stick…
Smell, it’s a sense to be disorderly annoyed by.
I hate smelly things. Including hair spray.

Stop reminding me of winter when you can’t even heal my fingertips.
You’re the worst solid I ever touched… and yet my blood was mixed with you,
where her cold allusions to happiness were dispelled.
I hate you, frozen water. I do.

Fucking shoes… I had to sleep in that car because she wanted to sleep in the middle of the freeway that connects Venice and Vicenza. And my shoes were all wet. The smell was insufferable, and so was the feeling in my feet.
And then- what for? Think about them: you work all day, with shoes doing nothing but limiting the true potential of a part of your body that was meant to be free -maybe to grow proper callosities for protection.
I hate all shoes. All of them.

After years of going to anger management, I found that the best way to deal with it isn’t to avoid it, but to focus it. I daily focus my anger in specific things. Sometimes these are random -showing how absurd and impractical is anger per se-; sometimes are very personal, and sometimes anybody could relate.

Well, I will put the target of my anger in this absurd blog.