Love may be unsanitary and insane-

wicked delusion of the imagination

mere catapult for gestation, but I choose

haberdashery for its vintage look and seamless

 

formula.  It feels warm to be worn out.

You can’t smell what’s on the TV.

The w(h)e)ather is never the same and life

 

may be a yearly yearning for something

more like a rose flushed

with petals pouting and petulant always open

 

to the bee (nothing like entrapment-really.)

You never dissolve your absolution

In metaphor always on top and go go go.

Birds may be advanced aviators

 

only due to a (freak) mutation meant

to facilitate fornication just like

the linear accent of your lean clavicle.

 

And science may be nothing like faith

and faith may be nothing like science

but without one where would the other be?

For more information visit your local place of worship

 

or a whorehouse (similar ideas could be exchanged.)

Because desire is nothing without grace

love is nothing without fucking and all

 

talk is sin but could be sing if only we had the power

to endure a sting once in a while

that’s why divergences exist in ecology.

 

Stay awhile.  There are tales of certain

species of women that kill and devour

their lovers after getting what they need

and sometimes I feel that i

 

may be related to the sun because when winter

comes I feel a rather cold feeling in my tongue,

too stunned to speak for life for love for

sex you just sneeze.  Gather the stones by the lake

 

and build a mausoleum for the dying easter(n)

gods and there will be time to mourn because

by morning it’ll be closer to your birthday. (false day)

Every day I saunter on the laundered beach seeking out the

 

Atlantic sun (keep away) and there may be time to

gather stones by the lake.  Just wait. But who will come?

 

Death may be nature’s way of saying you lost

especially in spring when the day is won

and what was all the love for if our body’s

are forfeit in the end.  What’s all the hedonism

 

For if children don’t sing us to sleep.