excuse me,
you've woken up the dead
emotions that ring
and have rung
like the circles of venus
along my neck,
attached to a pathetic head.
the one that talks,
jibber jab about love sickness,
the illness most known
to kill the m of men,
that being masculinity.
reducing the higher love
from a ground so below.
twisting the rope
and plastic string,
making them into
afflicts of affection,
loyal pups that aren't smart enough
to know better.
they want either legs or love.
poor hormonal hunger,
keeping us from being normal.
