of love

this

love is the delusion

that makes you hungry in the dark

this

what? what what what what what?

THIS!

here now

this is crap atop crap atop crap atop crap

you, me

between us this dangling compromise

we do not touch

not touch

think

thinking reveals

arched memories

and punctured minds

satisfaction

is always the otherside of the coin

the one that faces not us

we don't win

even in memory we don't grin

love is the sad byproduct

of an abundance of time

and space

and indulgent idleness

and the mastery of dubious self deception

the soul sleeps

and the soul is a whore

love is the tired

wind that passes

so softly

nothing shatters ever more

love is forlorn

crap is love

but this time

i saw your face

and felt my skin stretch to a half smile

and then i recognized

love is the deluision

that makes you snarl and drool

even when you're bellyfull

yuck! forget it!

who wants to write about love anyway!

---

the song pours

my ear twitches

love is a whore

love is a whore