i hate you

Something that afternoon,
(No, not something. Specifically,
That Conversation.)
Filled me (No, not just my heart, but
My arms legs fingers toes
Eyes. Me.)
With utmost certainty that I could kill.
(And would.)
Given the chance, I would kill you.
Hate?
Hate is not good enough for what I felt
Feel am feeling,
Not a good enough reaction to your action.
Actions?
How am I to know just how often
You indulge?
Would it be you (You you you)
That made me a murderer?
(If I were to kill you, of course.
I'm speaking hypothetically here.)
No way.
I wouldn't blame a single person but myself for my actions.
Don't get me wrong.
I figure,
I've had it in me all along.
To kill.
But I'll be damned
(Oh, she's puuuunny.)
If you weren't the trigger.
I can here my voice.
                                 "Ohhh, Boy, you shouldn't have
                                  Done That
                                  Now, should you've?"
I believe that, along with being born a potential murderer
(Maybe, at least. I haven't, yet.)
I was also born a deft manipulator.
(Definitely. But I'm quitting cold turkey.)
But you (You you you)
Are the best I've seen yet.
                                  "Let me go home..."
she said.
                                  "You do this first."
you said.
And she was screaming,
Oh, and she
Was screaming, you b*****d.
You f*****g b*****d.
This hate in me now
It is rotting
It is fetid
It is the corpse
Of who she was.
(Or the person on the pedestal I held her on.)
I dream sweet, pleasant, soothing dreams
Of killing you.
Of your murder.
Or your accident.
Whichever you prefer.
I do not worry for my sanity,
And I know
                                "Retaliation won't bring her back. Won't stop
                                 What happened.
                                 Won't erase
                                 What happened."
But I want you to hurt.
I want you to scream,
To scream,
And for no one to hear you.
I can't tell (Him), but I wish with all my heart
That you had died that night.
(And I deeply regret the wish as soon as it is wished. Every time.)
                                 "There is within me
                                  (and with sadness I have watched it in others)
                                  a knot of cruelty borne by the stream of love..."
Conceived solely by me
But no Immaculate Conception, for sure.
Maybe, if you're lucky,
If I'm lucky,
I can stop hating you.
But I don't waaanna.

Author's Note

A disclaimer:
(I write not of directly personal grievances, but personal they are nonetheless. I've never felt this way about anyone before; a level of emotion not before reached on any part of my being before... Recent times. I imagine if you are reading this, you are a person to which it does not apply, especially You, little man.)
The Scarlet Ibis quote was not "contextually correct," but definitely suited my purpose, I felt. And yes, that IS a petulant whine in the very last line.

Reviews

[kyrie]

This piece is interesting. The lower case in the title ities with the last line. This hate is so consuming and completely storming...but sometimes, it's laughable. There are times when it comes out as a two-year old's rage. They can throw a mean tantrum, and it usually involves one line: But I don't waaaaaana