There's a dusty book on an old chestnut bookshelf,
'Love' scrawled across the spine in golden letters.

Everyone has read it's secrets and taken them to heart.
Everyone has tasted it's nectar and gotten drunk on its words.

Everyone has prayed to its truths.
Everyone has promised to abide.

Verse I: She will love him.
Verse II: He will love her.

She-him, he-her.
These pronouns are tattooed in my eye lids.

These pronouns course through my veins.
These pronouns are stuck in my throat.

I'm choking on a normality I've been force fed,
my insides burning with society's expectations.

As I prayed every night for the man of my dreams.
As I confessed ever boy I had ever kissed.

As I looked at him and felt nothing.
As I looked at her and felt everything.

My fingers skimmed the pages of society's bible,
the pages slicing apart my fingers and leaving blood in the margins.

When my friends placed the rosary around their hands,
and I placed my hands in hers.

When I looked into the words being taken so blindly,
and my body created antibodies for every lie I had contracted.

And I stared into the verses, washing them away with angry tears.
And I threw the book into the fire, watching as the flames made their final edits.

And I looked into her eyes, and I tasted her lips.
And I let everything about her become everything I know.

I ignored the teachings I had once treasured and wrote a book for myself.
I learned to be unfaithful, and put my faith in her.

In the mayday of setting capture
My love and I forever after
We have been now for ten long year's
My wife and honey
My tender dear.

I will write a rhyme, I'll write a rhyme right now
About a Purple Chicken and a Big Green Cow
-
The chicken laid an egg, the cow made methane gas
Blew it on the chicken, right out her big green ***
-
The chicken said cluck-cluck, the cow then said moo-moo
Do not **** me off, or you'll be chicken stew
-
Oh yea! The chicken said, hamburger you'll be!
You'll end up at McDonalds, just you wait and see

Today is to enjoy
and not think about tomorrow.
it is better to live in joy
than it is to die in sorrow.

Love is not the silly game we play, of who's going to call whom first;

Love is the beautiful dance I perform with the idea of you.
The way our bodies swirl and touch,
The way your soul melds into mine.
The way my heart heats up, and my whole being weighs down with warmth.

My hands hurt when I touch your essence; your presence in my fingers burns me.

I dance with the ethereal you, with a soft piano waltz lamenting in the distance.
I jump, waiting for you to catch me,
I'm stuck in the air.

The being that I dance with is intangible, it's not really there.
But I'm stuck in the air,
And I hope that you come to soften the blow when I fall.