It is an affliction of reason, an emotional rash, the pretext for narcissistic reproduction. It is vain and blind and ugly in its partiality. I hate religions and there is none more superstitious, no god more cruel, no commandment more onerous, no scriptures more inane than love. It is a relationship of one exploited and its master. There is no equality between the junkie and his syringe.
Love is the continuation of hate and fear, the emotions provoked by our parents, by other means.
It is to look for omnipotence through impotence. I much prefer hate and fear. As potent as love, yet so ever more purposeful, crystalline and honest. There is no hypocrisy in terror, nor is there pretence in hatred. In them, we seek the ruin of our tormentors, the obliteration of our addiction.