irrational hatred
the feeling of fleece and the texture of wicker
the greasy perfume of kentucky fried chicken
chicken wire affixed to wrought iron gates
these are a few of my irrational hates
people who clap on the first and the third beat
warm summer sun with its frankly absurd heat
strangers in shops who pretend that we're mates
these are a few of my irrational hates
high heels with jeans (although boots are exceptions)
checking your hair in each passing reflection
strictly come waltzing to songs in 6/8
these are a few of my irrational hates
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