If it were up to me we'd cum and merge,
spontaneously combust, nova free,
the little death would take our breath and purge
the scourge of our materiality.
Our interpenetrating molecules
like wild micro galaxies colliding --
rock and roll with the family jewels --
coming down fast, brassy trombone sliding.
What are you gonna do? If love were real
it'd be like an opium dream, all bliss
forever; f*ck and die; transfigured seal
all wrapped in one long swashbuckling kiss.
Beats me why we're here and where we're going
or why you reach a high and start slowing.
(Article changed on Jun 27, 2021 at 3:19 PM EDT)
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