the rudest, cruelest person

sometimes i feel like the rudest, cruelest person.

perhaps i started to feel this way when she said to me, "you're the rudest, cruelest person!"

but this cruel man would like to pull the comforter of dirt up over his head to shut the coldness out, to plant himself like a seed in fertile soil. what more can one ask for than the warmth of the sun filtering through the rich black layers of earth to heat one's bones, to lie peacefully as up above the muffled voices of worry and pain carry on the unending morality play?

nature can be cruel, but not as cruel as i, not as cruel as the invented censures of those we love, and not half as cruel as when they hit the mark.

i am the rudest, cruelest person.

because you say so.