.

my love for shit


love is like a song about me. love
is dreaming, dreaming until i reach an airport terminal
and say "goodbye future, goodbye past. i just
want to see you and fuck your brains out
until your glass eye venom is out of me."
love is telepathy. love is having harmonious bedrooms.
love is dirty and ravenous. love is not white
and it's not placenta. it's painterly. it's a bouquet of tiger lilies.
love is knowing. love is not a screen.
love is running, chasing, tearing apart the forest fire of life
for always taking it away from me, letting it get away
even while it burns in front of me.
love quizzes me to submission. oh, my range soul.
love is not real. it's flickering and it's time for bed.
if i thought i could stand a morning after death
wrangling the wretched lost flavors of your fuck while i sleep
i'd be something mental and psychiatric if you're into that.