Deep-diving into the culprits of my self-deprecation, "Discount Shakespeare" showcases all 50 of my poems, originally posted on Twitter, which I had written from my high school years to this day (whenever this gets published, I guess).
Teeming with...
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Discount Shakespeare An anthology of musings Poetry by luxsick
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HOW-TO: Draw strength from hate
If someone tells you that hate's too strong a word for their liking, make it a part of your life-line. Or, better yet, the lines of your life.
Take, for instance, a hurt locker. Remember him. Turn your hate into hurting.
Draw from it, the strength they see.
This stunt, in layman's terms, is called a pain signifier. A representation of your pain, whatever it is you may have gone through. Are you catching on? Good. Just tell me when things are getting too complex for your understanding, and I'll dumb it down for you.
Now, you might think that building a hurt locker costs a lifetime's worth of rocket science and elbow grease. It doesn't. Take your global goods with you — and from the shit that I've seen, you don't have that many — and bathe them in seclusion. A place with an emptiness so depressing, you'd might as well think that the world's your punching bag. Channel that heaviness. Amp it up. Set it aflame. You're almost done.
Locker-warming gifts are always in season. These may include a hand-sewn doll (make sure to capture his Blue Rose Award for Most Likely to Become a Corrupt Politician), a cork board filled with his drunk selfies on Instagram, a dart board with his favorite book pinned smack-dab on the center, lined by daggers and matches, a wooden puppet fit for all the lies he's made, his A-worthy portrait from 4th grade, the one that showcased his desire to become a policeman, his rejection letter (not to him, but to you, from him), and a clay sculpture of yourself with his decapitated head.
The same people who fear hate will ask you why you're doing this.
Say that he's a self-absorbed protégé. A reminder that corruption breeds in the classroom. Say that he's strong, so you must be stronger.
Say that you know an asshole when you see one.
Think of when he judged you for living and all the times he's wondered what you were doing, brain-dead under his reign. Think of when he desperately wanted to keep you on his team only to shame you for being right, and the core memory of him breaking your words apart in art's name. Think of when yourstory meant more to him than your own life.
Your hurt locker is yours to wreck.
And when you're done, throw yourself in it. Live in it.
Consider all the years you've spent trying to bite his bark, and every measure of his success that your hate wouldn't dare touch.
Count the number of times he's appeared on your screen.
When you close your eyes and dream, what's the shape of your hurt locker?
The same shape of his humble abode. A palace fit for a president.
