I don’t fall for that typical love that attracts bloodshot eyes.
Encapsulated in a pulsing red is a desire that repels me.
For with every beat of a heart, there is one in sync with mine.
And in whose chest I see no wall deterring me.
Of frivolous passion and soft ashen fears
That fell to the water and melted like liquid fire,
We are rare.
I listen for the dull thump that echoes over mountains.
There is none too honest and whole
That does not attract my quivering eyes.
Typical love is that vomit-inducing kind of transient that sifts
Through skeletal fingers, hungering for distasteful appetite.
Tunes reverb in flushed ears and I am merry
And I happily bleed out the sharp air.
That typical love that excites a million and more of starving souls?
Its voluptuous and tasty exterior is all addictive flavor.
My tongue craves only a hint of what it can give me.
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