Nothing Matters (But What We Think Does)


Monogamy as reaction,
French away the vanilla of
your first kiss, off its pretended
innocence with ravenous hit,

venomous lick experience
gifts, kid, unjust though it is, this
is just how it is, more alone
I’ve been ever since, more I get

some perspective, being around
people only reminds me how
alone I really am, so I
prefer this illusion, instead,


not lonely in my chosen role,
this mockery of every
moré and conformity to
intimacy we practice and

perform for years in bedrooms we
never fill with company, no,
not unless or until someone
we meet meets each these our sundry

and inextricably needed
eccentricities, essential,
necessary, necessities
of ceaseless insecurities


without nary any worry
and concerns themself with only
what movies go on to show as
love, but that isn’t us, don’t be

nervous, oh, it always invites
regret, so, let go and let me
let you tell me how far into
your heart I should throw my Self I

never show, not for anyone
else, don’t ever question if it’s
the myth or even me, nothing
really exists but what we feel.