don't drop crumbs on the floor
don't produce dirt on the sofa

don't be weak but
entertaining
don't tell me your story
cause i hate it

don't take control in bed
don't try to find the speed
don't talk about your needs

don't question my dont's
don't think that you won't

So.
Love on a piece of crumpled paper, sitting on the couch.
Bare and Obvious.


Dirt on faces and calves.
Dust on clothes made of rags, rage, sorrow, disease and fear.
We refused to give this paper away.
Afraid we would get *****.
afraid we would get humiliated because no one else would give it.

.This paper, still crumpled in our hands.
We refuse to give it to those who didn't deserve it.
we refuse to give it to those who need it.
we all need it.

So this love sits on the couch of our hands.
waiting.
obvious.
waiting to dip it's way into hearts...

I was told a brain on poem was a terrible thing to waste . To which I retorted ,"Which one is wasted?"

You,
the platform of merriment
moulded to the moment;
always the best seat in the house