Crack on the Sidewalk

This piece was done without stopping my pencil from moving.

crack on the sidewalk
cannot understand why
don't want my mom's back to break
but that's not the reason
I hate to step on cracks
feel them
put my hand against them
the grainy bulbous sidewalk is intoxicatingly bad
I hate it but without it there is no separation between good and evil
it is completely bad yet I am so drawn to it like I am to a fabric
I cannot stop myself from touching it
I reach out my long arm and my hand feels along the stripe
crinkling my fingers
there's something wrong with me but I don't care
because I feel the sidewalk touching the hot sweat on my body
which I need but also hate
there is nothing that I completely love or hate

I love my parents but I also at the same time hate them
hate them for loving me
hate them for caring
giving a damn
I've secretly wanted them to abandon me
just to see how I would fend for myself in the wild
on the street by myself
touching the horrible cracks on my own with no responsibility
but to live and find food by scraping the roadkill off of the hot pavement
how I would hate the stink and smell
but it would be a challenge
and later I could tell them that I lived on my own
and would lie anyway and say that I was raised by wolves
because nobody could say that I was lying
I would be appreciated even if I had no talent and my writing was crap
and I could go back home to my parents and laugh at them
because abandoning me had only made me stronger
and they would weep and my life would be exactly how I wanted it to be
even if there was nobody to love me
because I had never known love
and the only thing that I had ever learned to love would be that gray sidewalk
which I hated

they are not opposites
I love what I hate because my hate gives love
and my love doesn't make life interesting
and my wolf parents that were never real
would approve and explain to my real parents