That Something, Love Me Alone
Love, like a black rose, dead within a couple of weeks, except for the silk ones, all fake and covered by dust, water slowly eating away at the plastic stems, no thorns or pain, just plain and simple deterioration. These symbolic objects begin to plague me as I lye slightly awake on a striped bed with over-ripened skin, a heightened sense of reality seven layers deep, BEEP BEEP, the sound awakes me from a sleep walking hypnotic state of mind, between the lines where dreams are designed, robotic autopilot motion detectors with only antennas to feel, touch, touch, pass, onto the next digital beatific Goddess, where built in heroes and heroines pass through electric veins, little vast universe within… And they ask me what love is? Love me, Love me, Love me, Love me. Above me I see the surface of a skinny sky, and I shout at the top of my lungs, I love you! To nothing, which is something so special, it’s that something, that I love.
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