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Valentines Of Pain Or The Blood Cocoa Bean
Saint Valentine, supposed,
ushering forth with love;
your tender anniversary with a whip.
A chocolate kiss, with calloused hands,
assembled;
vacant, listless eyes without;
...neither seeing nor feeling love.
Every drop of corn syrup, unfed,
corpulent and fetished;
whose essence lingers 'pon the lips.
Every drop of ebony perfum, 'pon breath;
staining the love of virtue and couplehood;
staining the ignorance and denial;
whose fingerprints of a child
seep through every morsel you ingest.
You ingest pain, you ingest fear,
you ingest exploitation
and you ask for more.
You call it love but is it?
- Another reminder that the chocolate you eat or give out as gifts on this worthless
holiday has most likely been farmed and harvested by children working on a pittance and in
harsh exploitative conditions.
Every penny you spend enables this torturous exploitation to continue.
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