Love

Love

This silly thing we call Love.

This idea of euphoria, that exceeds any drug.

Love

Love

It drives us poets out o' our minds

when we sit down to write, seems it's the topic all the time.

Love

Love

it's a funny little word

no definition could quite fit it, but yet none sound too absurd

Love

Love

some say it keeps them going

It's a **** in the garden, that simply won't stop growing

Love

Love

if it's true it don't stop

even if you won't admit it, there's someone in your thoughts

Love

Love

it's what I feel for you

and darling after all this time, I pray you still do too.

We saw hundreds of human skulls,
bleached,
lined up in in neat tidy rows
amongst the dunes.
Each had in bullet hole
right in the middle of the top of their heads.
We figured each person was lying face down when they got the fatal shot.
Then they were left dead there,
fully clothed,
to rot
in the hot desert sun.
They say,
what you don't know
won't hurt you.
But now that you do know,
do you feel anything?