Loving just one woman
or all the women of the world, where the dress rehearsal
is never a wedding, and the nights are long
lonely, an alternative to love
old age, and recognition
that you are too old
to love—just wrinkles
nothing left, but spent time.
Who can tell us, if our passions will love us back?
Even if we love them, or fall out of love, in the end
we embrace the abyss.
A spoken word with no faith is always true—
it’s a mathematical certainty, like death
but cheating death in life
is what makes it worth living.
What are friends for, but to tell us what we can’t do?
What is family for, but for those closest to us
to tell us
they know us better
than we know ourselves—
like their opinion
weighs more than absolute truth.
We are infected by it
Our immune systems
must embrace the impossible, the impractical—like a virus, if only to prove
dreams are more valuable
than what we can buy in a store
or parade down main street.
My revenge is to have the world
the power that doesn’t come with a position of responsibility
Numbers compete with each other
and laugh at the magician who doesn’t follow their logic
I believe in doing the opposite of what everyone else is doing
run in the opposite direction
believe the opposite
I would rather be boxed-in by my own beliefs, and be wrong
than believe the masses
I would rather believe in my own god
than the prescriptive lives people take, like bitter medication
I am in rebellion—
it will end badly
and I believe that’s better
than the bitter life
that swallows us whole
spitting us out
with a bad taste
in its mouth.