Afterwards, the compromise.
Bodies resume their boundaries.

These legs, for instance, mine.
Your arms take you back in.

Spoons of our fingers, lips
admit their ownership.

The bedding yawns, a door
blows aimlessly ajar.

and overhead, a plane
singsongs coming down.

Nothing is changed, except
there was a moment when

the wolf, the mongering wolf
who stands outside the self

lay lightly down, and slept.

Happiness is what we fear most,
Peace somehow a luxury which we feel we cannot afford.

I hate Relationships. Even when you're not in one they manage to fuck your shit.

It's hard to drive with a multi-colored moon at your back,
Weaving gently through coughing thoughts of purple.
Her face is framed with endless thoughts of-
Nothing but twisting clouds of burning smoke,
Obscuring the vision of her orange sun in the rear-view mirror.

Oh, Johnny wishes he was famous,
Spends his time alone in the basement,
With Lennon and Cobain and,
A guitar and a stereo.

And while he wishes he could escape this,
But it all seems so contagious,
Not to be yourself and faceless,
And a song that has no soul.