Hate is a Mold

Hate is a mold that bites and eats and feasts
'Til all you see is its colours
And all colours you see are it
And then it latches on to everything
First like a tic burrowed deep in bristly furs
Then like a sunburn
And last like a rusty hook through a limp lip

It takes over the sky
It spreads in the wind
Spreads through the rivers and waters the trees
And the fruit they bear will be the fruits of hate
With seeds of rot

Hate is a mold we will eat
And it will taste sweet while it poisons us inside-out

There will be some
Inoculated from birth
That choked on hate from their first milk
Boiled into their gums
Like an uninvited guest
The rot will hide deep in their walls
And smell like flowers to their rotten noses
They will not taste it
So to them it won't be real

And then there will be others
Encountering the hate at its meal-time
Eating away at their neighbour's crop
And fly downwind, avoiding their own
These will see the rot as their friend
They will love the rot so much
They will call it Love
They will chew it up
And blow rotten kisses to their enemies
They will write books about Love
They will write songs about what feeds and clothes them
And conquers the world in their name
They'll feed it their best fruit
And when the rotten skin curls in on itself
They will see its lips and kiss it

Hate is a mold that feeds on blood
And lives in it
It's what turns veins blue
And we will not know it by its colour
But how beautiful it makes us feel

We will not know
That when we sing we spit it between our teeth

We will not know
That when we write it'll be a parasite
That moves our hands for us