If you must love, do it quickly.
I don't want to read your sonnets.
The words are insect-shaped;
ants marching through black ink,
leaving their marks on virgin paper,
and previously untouched hearts.
Besides, nonsense is passion's dogma.
I can't understand a thing you say.
So rip it off. Hurry up.
Leave the glue on my skin and be gone.

09/16/2006

Posted on 09/18/2006
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