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.