3 Days Till
Hearts and candy surround me, and all the lovers float on high, with that
seventh one person that was meant for them. They wave their heart-red love
in all the lonely faces and their tongues are tide and their hands are
held, but hey, I'd join 'em if I could.
It's all about that thing called love.
Love is that lost thing. That lost feeling of that first lover who's heart
and tongue has you leaning on yourself, asking for forgiveness from ears
who aren't there, and mouths that aren't hers. And you say, please, please,
please love me to no one, not realizing how much you want her to hear,
until you are staring at the semen in your hand and all you can think of is
her.
Sex is needless.
And love is real.
I've been in love.
I've been in that divine presence of mind where your sick to your stomach
but well in the head and your lips are better for the beautiful feelings of
hers than any words could ever say. Where everything flies like God and in
this moment, in this moment in this moment, where the hell was I ever going
before this? This is as beautiful as you've ever felt like being, and when
she says I love your eyes, you don't hope she's not lying. You don't care,
cause it's the best lie you've ever heard.
Innocent lie.
And you want it back, back to back. And it ain't nothing but the wind now
that says your name in the night, and you sit up, and ask what? But then
realize you left the window open, and those beautiful fingertips on your
neck were just your ugly own. And when you are more disgusting, and
depraved and porn-driven and you smell of your own cum and sweat, the room
only lit by the lamp by your bed, you say "who could love this?"
Then you get up and scream it!
You smash everything in this tower of shit you live on!
You curse fate!
You curse God!
You curse everything except for yourself and her.
Not her, for you fear that she might hear.
She might be right outside your door. So far from home, or right down the
street, it doesn't matter. She might be right there. Wondering why you
stopped searching for her.
And you say through the door, baby I want you back, and I want to get so
close to you I can see through the other side, and not to deny things
between you and I that are so proven that they are fact, but it's a fact, I
want you back, and aren't you gonna come here and keep me from wasting
space and wasting time and wasting myself, and love and love and love!
And my room mate rightfully tells me to shut the fuck up.
And nothing was ever solved by masturbation.
Maybe I got my dick confused with my heart.
Maybe I should schedule an operation.
Have my heart massaged.
But it's useless.
All the cardiologists have plans on the 14th.