~I think I would rather possess eyes that know no sight, ears that know no sound, hands that know no touch than a heart that knows no love.~
Love. I think of love and I wonder,
what does it mean to this world of woe?
How are we to focus on love when
the world is a distressed old woman with mental issues.
A heartbreak addict and we are it's supplier.
The news emerges at the crack of dawn with the bang
the pistol that just killed the twelve year old down the street holding the rubber gun with the orange tip. And love is supposed to be on our mind
while the baby lays in the garbage can while her mommie peddles her body for a bottle of oxxy. Sweet.
Love. A tragedy not even Shakespeare would have evoked
I despise the word would be his tale in this lost age
At the stroke of midnight, we prepare
For another disastrous chance at creating the almost.
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