Biohazard

It’s hard to write poems
Like you’re a voice for
A generation of artists
Suffering in silence
Apathetic about stagnant
Careers in thrift managing
To exist day-to-day
Without ending it.
Glumly, I flick through pages
Of questionable merit
Every job needs a portfolio
Nobody uses filters to cut
Shit included to pad it out
Give it a noticeable weight
A polished golden biohazard
Charged at the industry rate

Biohazard

Hate

I am a hater. I dissolve pleasantries
To dust with my abyss filled eyes
I stand in dark places
Because I absorb all the light

I am the black hole of hatred
Sucking in atoms with each breath
Soon all those with good intentions
Will be sucked into their death

My rage-fuelled wordy assaults
Lash each victim as they’re sleeping
But I only use the sound effect
As a prequel to the beating

My insults have gravitas
Chasing after those who’ve fled
Screaming through their smartphone
A buzzing migraine in the head

But I despise it all so much
I don’t have time to hate individuals
I have bigger world’s to scream at
Than a world of trivial details

Hate