I hate family dinners
Your surface
I hate your self-confidence
I hate your speech
Your ironic jokes
I hate the unbelievable wall that separates us
I hate your tongues and your larynxes
I hate the weight of your heads
I hate the tone of your voices
I hate the beating of your hearts

I hate the movements when you swallow
I hate your saliva dripping as you stare at me with slack-jawed mouths
I hate the beating of your hearts
I hate your itchiness
I hate the sweat under your armpits
I hate your foul breath
I hate your patriarchy
I hate your racism

Your homophobia

Your sexism

I hate your jealousy and your envy
I hate all your prohibitions
I hate your fascism
Your war
I hate your macho aggression
Your violence
Your disguises
I hate your pseudo-intellectualism

I hate your bossiness, you complex-ridden little people

I hate your rigid stares
I hate your hypocritical politeness
Your apathy
I hate the posture of your bodies
I hate the directions of your gazes
Your ironed sheets
I hate your typical fake good mornings
I hate your lifeless handshakes
I hate your sterilized kisses
I hate your inability to see beyond your own noses

I hate your wooden smiles
I hate your indifferent faces
I hate your blood flowing with hypocrisy
I hate the scraps of your thinking
I hate your expired values
I hate your swollen livers
I hate your rotten bourgeois regime
I hate your shopkeeper souls
I hate your gossip
I hate your pseudo-revolutions

I hate the shit dripping from your mouths

I hate your fucking skulls

I hate your criticism
Your malice
The table, the food, the wines, and all the snitches of the family