You are, I love you.
You wouldn’t be, I’d love you, too.
There is no slave to be,
No escape to plan,
For today is gone before tomorrow has happened.
There is no satisfaction pill,
To be swallowed at will,
For your faults to disappear,
Is no sweet melody to my ear.
It is your thinking about the pill
That takes away the thrill,
Of aliveness every day to fill.
It’s in your farts and smelly feet,
That love grows at ease,
Like shrooms to multiply,
In a dark and humid womb.
It is your pimples I love to pop,
For the hideous crap inside,
With a spitting scream,
Frees your face in sight.
Pick your nose and get there late.
Be too fat or too skinny,
But don’t meet the goals you envy,
Be the worst you can be brave.
If everything was ordered,
Predictably like a swiss watch ticked,
Tomorrow would just be another today.
A sad loop of sterile behavior,
A routine well oiled,
Paradise for imagination,
Strictly, with no friction.
No friction and no bad smells,
Means no sulfur, nor sandpaper.
That’s no matches, nor lighters for sparks.
There is no light in the darkness of your frictionless world.
Everything you don’t want, makes everything you want.
I want my window to be crooked,
My pants’ legs to be different lengths,
And for the smoke of the campfire to follow us with annoying persistency.
I want to moan and complain,
I want to be angry and alive,
I want to be here and now,
Not in the timelessness of mechanical repetition,
The blackhole of so-called perfection,
The insanity of every detail requiring attention.
The woman I love,
I want her to be human,
With a rich personality.
Two sides to the coin,
With depth and perspectives,
A frustrating reality I can never see whole,
Only in imagination exists,
Yet in front of me there is the manifestation,
Of a fantasy in my head,
More real than my dreams.
It is when you hit that it hurts,
With so much love that I have tears,
And hate to know you deeply care.
Be everything I don’t want you to be,
So that I can discover,
Who you really are,
And all over again,
With reality to fall in love.