Love is forever. But It can’t be. I search for love at all times. I get it. I’ve gotten plenty of love, but it’s never enough. For me, it’s not better to have loved and lost. It’s fucking painful. Love continues to exist for me, like a piece of meat, in front of a greyhound on a dog track. I chase it and chase it. Just like the dog, I will never get it. On the other hand , If I do better than my competitors, won’t I still win the race? But who cares? Unless love is the race, in which case that’s what I want. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, but not in the same way that a snake hiding would be. I’m stuck between love and work. Sadly, they can never combine in any meaningful way. Love is happiness, and work is distraction. I don’t want to be distracted from happiness, but I don’t want to have nothing to show for myself after a lifelong of mindless “love”. Love is always mindless. There can be no rhyme or reason to rationalize it. But it’s that time of the season, and you have to try it. It’s spring, get a fling, sit and sing, until it stings. There is honey, but it’s always back at the comb, at the home. The sweetness is not flying around; neither with you or the bee that buzz’s the way you like. It’s where you left, it was there waiting for you. It tastes like fucking bliss but it’s not enough. God it’s tough. Drop the stuff and fly again. Keep flapping those damn wings, and soon you’ll be standing, stiffer than before, cause now it’s a war. Take your weapon, aim, and fire. My brain is tired, grainy and wired. I’m electric, and I want to shock a woman. I call it love, but I have no idea. It’s just what I’ve got to offer. I want to give her what I’ve got and see her eyes get wide, her legs get wide and her mind open up to what I’ve got to say. I want her, I want her, I want her shocked by my sheer power, without moving a muscle, saying a word or thinking a thought. But I don’t have that kind of power yet. I’m low-wattage, low-octane, dim. So I have to work. I work, I work, and it hurts but I work.
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