I’ve been sitting on this piece now for some time… Wasn’t sure if it was actually finished but here goes.”
Peculiarity in polarity.
Some believe in zodiac compatibility and others in spiritual popularity.
Religious authorities say stay faithful and all else will fall in line comparatively.
Compassion and trust should honestly rule with honesty.
But I’m not perfect, I surf with culprits guilty of bodily geometry.
I just, love to love to love to love and maybe the best love is love left all alone.
Experienced remnants whispering it’s all a test love,
Experiences and short comings yelling “it’s a mess love!”
The best love… isn’t captured by the what love is supposed to be or these rules apply here; it’s not captured at all. It’s wild, changing, spontaneous, unplanned and genuine like bubbles floating from the bottom to the top of the bottle of wine.
Some love because it’s convenient, some because it’s necessary, some because of security and some because of dear adversary. Tears stare, coming down the face filled with anguish, hopelessness coming down to save Hope from this; what is this?
What is this?
It’s this, pain dressed drag as sovereign bliss
Which switch, flicks lights into sporadic sexual blips.
She’s nice, but thanks to the horror of horoscopes she’ll convene to the box that now governs her hips and box.
You gets none of any you’re not compatible to locks.
You don’t fit the gears of mechanical love, computed and resolute by internet drugs, Ethernet love,
Christians mingle and Facebooks when your Twitter is no Match.com to the LinkedIn of their YouTubes instant Instagram I bet you can’t Google over her with such big ass goggles.
But when nothing else works explore the works of perks: Porn Hubs, BoobTubes, A$$ Parades all aspiring billion dollar a year accolades.
Maybach music playing in an ’05 Escalade no escapade can save your name by chasing fame…
So I deter on detours to love!