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Whom do I love? – Still.
Licks my scorched, festering heart with a salty tongue.
Petty barbs moisturing the splayed virginity of my lust and inordinate solitude.
Her jaw smells like a shambles.
Her eyes bright white like an unused life.
Show yourself!
You desperate cunt.
How dare preventing me from falling.
Let loose. Leave me!
Spare my romance. Arouse others.
Good fortune, torment!
An ashy farewell for good.

Are you still there?
Do I suck that much self-love, keeping me passably on the road?
Or have you been always a ghost light?
Where are you hiding?

I met a lovely couple.
They have a frog as their company, a present of mom, following them everywhere. The silent prince of Czech Republic.
And they are addicted to fun parks. Can´t be turbulent enough.

I visit broken cemeteries, slums, dumpsites and other ruins of society.
Love doesn’t exist.
Love needs to be created.
Shaped of the condensate of my perception, preejaculating reality.

Sometimes it needs a bit of love.
Like a glas of milk, chocolate or coffee.