Leave romance to the poems you read. Let art be art. It’s our escape From a life full of sharp corners. But let a mess be a mess. Let black be black. If had a nickel For every single ephemeral nuke ive kissed, I’d have enough money To buy a pack of gum That takes their flavor out of my mouth. Love inherently has motion. It can be redirected, But it can’t be stopped. I was discombobulated, But now I’m walking home To a strong man with scars over his pupils. He has survived every day of his life. The quality of my conversations with myself Makes her look Like some rusty Farris wheel On the forth of July In some small town that’s asleep That will never wake up That I can’t wait to leave. Forgive my lack of gentleness My heart has become a broken place With sharp corners.