It just doesn't work like that. Like a big switch in my head, (grubby and greasy with finger prints), buzzing and humming when turned on.
Actually, maybe it's just like that but...
the thing is, if I were to ramble 'bout all the ways you are just so god ******
well, that's the kind of **** that makes people want to throw up.
So if you could somehow just take my word for it that you are...
that poster that hung on my wall when I was twelve,
a wholesome dream as much as a pornographic one,
****** decadence all mixed up with kittens and puppy dogs,
well then
we could keep on loving and living well and forget about things as pretentious, narcissistic and nauseating as a poem.