So, the world is only a field of dust
of loves, fucks, friendships, dead skin and lusts.
Darling, are you just a speck in the rubble?
So, it’s only an orgy of lost connections,
a webbed grave of little, mass destructions.
Darling am I only a spot lost in the mess?
So, what do we do now?
what about tears?
when we wake up entwined and
perhaps in love,
do we know who else lay on our bed?
It’s raining in our house.
Doesn’t it seem that society is too kind?
For all the easy lies-
like love, sacredness, vows…-
so our brains stay intact and our sanity breathing.
I’m tempted to conform and confine,
just so we can get out of bed and smile
over breakfast and kiss goodbye