Your third eye, your two eyes, you're I, you are I, I,

Love hurts
Is what they have been telling you
And you thought that they meant
when Morgan told you that engineering was more important than you, or
when Michael didn't recognize you
In the grocery store, or
when Matt didn't talk to you after you had *** in his fourth floor downtown condo.



Love hurts
When your father would rather
Put a cigarette into coal asthmatic lungs
Than catch the 14:23 train to
Roma Termini station.
Your head was in your mother's lap
For each and every of the 32 minutes
Of countryside crossing.

If you love something,

let it go.


If you are hurt by something,

let is go as well.




Does this mean that everything I love is supposed to hurt me?

If you've cheated on every lover you've ever had,
It's probably you.

Actually, on second thought,
It's probably me

Your screams are mean, and it seems I am looking for meaning, because
Mean is meaning.
Mean is meaning.

"You're sweet, little dove;
now bend down and **** me like
a good girl. Good girl"

my father was a curator
and my mother sold guns
under their roof we made
art and war.