That Love Shit...

He's like that shit I wrote
when I believed in shit like that.
That love shit...

That can't sleep shit
cuz I'm thinkin bout him shit,
even though he ain't thinkin
bout me shit.

That love shit...
Or...that "you think it's love" shit...
but it's really
some other shit we call love because it
sounds better than "I don't know."

Well...I know...
I don't believe in that shit no more
I sleep. I eat. I live.

Throw him in my backpack for safekeeping.

Love is a bad tenent here now -
she breaks things,
don't pay rent on time,
disturbs my peace of mind.

I'd evict her but there are no vacancies anywhere
and the God in me won't send her to a manger
to birth her bastardized effects into the world...

Like him,
the one who came too late to the orgy,
who believes I was made for him
and he was made to heal me,
and our particular symbiosis
makes sense in this parasitic world.

[I'm rolling my eyes.]

THAT  love shit...