I hope you get, prolific
in the near future. so next time we
we slip gracelessly into each others arms we aren't so,
shapeless. or knocked up on 'the jesus juice.'
better yet, baby lets get fucking tragic! (shall we?)
we'll make up words like "love" and "gravity".
and maybe this time when the moon hits,
you won't be so, empty. and I won't be so, fucking prolific.