A Poet’s Hate

I hate poetry with a passion breaching all reason
is it the way you open my heart
and lay it on the open wasteland to be flung away
for Demons and Angels to exploit and feast on my pain or joy
on the meager remains of what makes me, me

I hate your lines that open my mind
rip emotions from intimate places, how?!
even build monuments to what I don’t want to feel
create palaces for my secret wanderlust
without pity of the changes your words impose upon me