He's using his mental misgivings
as a free ride,
and I despise him for that;
for coming into the world
as a burden,
circling like a hungry ghost
'round his little boy lost parasite self;
an imposter draining society
and anybody's strength,
unfortunate to be around him

In nocturnal dreamscapes
he sometimes turns up
in a veil of sorrow,
trying to lure me into a past
that never was,
and I despise his life
from the bottom of death

She, on the other hand,
is bent another way;
as a child exemplary hysterical,
anorectic,
later working herself hard
into the refuge of the academic
underbrush,
surfing on the surface tension
of a bourgeois culture,
presumptuous
dipping her toes,
proclaiming a long lost christianity
as home base;
a stupendous act of boredom

They'd both be better off off