(no subject)
Love drains you-- it brings forth August's gale,
a downpour of dry ice to scorch your deadpan subtlety.
There's always been transparency in that facade:
some big-shot guru, a veteran of cataclysm
and then, artlessly,
instinctively,
a torrent is sent from the heavens:
thick pellets of acidity
permeating through the troposphere. And thus,
Love drowns you-- in its unmerciful tide,
where Poseidon controls the hurricaine
from far off,
(oh how frightening it is to lose control)
however many planets away,
he raises his lightening bolt--
breaking time and sound barriers,
travelling from Neptune to your swimming pool,
and the unbiased sea thrashes you from side to side
until black is white and
'Death' has 'This Crap Life' in a headlock
(it's the only way out,
remember?)
remember--
my only decree is to poison the trauma ahead,
to preserve her innocence,
and to let someone else deal with a horrible affliction
'Dying Off' versus 'Dragging On' is touch-and-go:
uniform for our very own
Judgement Day
and oh, I'm placing bets.
Love devestates you-- it wreaks havoc on your enclave,
it plunders towards the confines to gut all borders
to loot and rape all souls, and
I'm always here,
troubled, always gridlocked
between this and that; from balance and rationality
to senselessness and madness.
It surrounds us.
Love compells you--
to become a better person
to yourself, to others,
to make ammends
and it breaks you down,
strips you of all you ever had,
and reveals you for who you are--
underneath all the bullshit, the lies,
and over that Wall. you know the one.
it is now possible for the dams to flood
(the beavers decided to say,
"Fuck it!" and took the season off)
and to unleash a wave of fresh new love to cover your world,
a whole new nautical insight. Still, however,
Love bleeds you-- and I'm constantly selling pints for kisses,
and for promises, always empty.
such ridiculous fractions of the heart:
from bear-hold comfort, security
to dissinterest, to dishonesty,
to disaster.
and it's so horrifying, so consuming,
so fleeting.
I decide to trekk on, to search to be searched,
and the usual goes on--
rejection, despair:
adjectives that describe each day of my life.
(it never happens.)
Burger King lied to me ("Have it your way!--
and impossibility)
The-End of this depressing rant about how
Love kills you