Bless my heart for the pain it causes me. Because despite all the hatred I have for humanity, I love so many humans, and I hate anyone who dares to call themselves misanthropes. But bite after bite, I gradually hate the human in every person I love. Bite after bite, I drain their honey and let their flaws shine. I imagine, with my poisoned mind, everything they don’t have. I imagine these traits in others. And every time I think about one person, I imagine what others are missing, but when I think about those others individually, I would do exactly the same thing. I love so many people, impossible to choose. Their faces smile impatiently. Their features come and go, melt and mingle. After a while, I am blind to their contours as they turn around. In an entity. In a mass of nose, and eyes, and teeth; smile and eat, mouths spit, scalps are scratched, lips, tenderness. I tried, but can’t give them an answer. So I want to flee from everything I love and hate to an island without spices, with an abundance of neutral pleasures. And as I run, and I put one foot in behind the other, the flowers open their mouth and laugh at me. The dandelions, the thoughts, the poppies and the collars of the priests all know my poison, and they take pleasure in my pain. So I struggle to run faster, but the fields last forever. And the pleasure of flowers feed their hunger. They open their smiles to drooping mouths, and swing their stems to better reach my flesh. The red of my nail polish becomes the red of my blood. And I am the blushing cloud that rains over carnivorous flowers.