The night is like a cooler for me I guess I
stayed in there too long, now I can’t un-frost
myself. In the end it’s all politics even relationships.
And wars we made were a small apocalypse.
Touching seedy stars with our filthy minds and
hands. Bodies like chessboard pieces. You’re
the queen I’ll die I’m the king I’ll protect you.
My ego two boiled eggs soft and salted.
Architecture we curated and went to see was a
story book of dreams. Dreams in politics. Socialism
sunny eggs and little sausages golden brown. My
dessert side dish banana pie whipped cream and a
cherry for the parking lot spot popped. Ihop franchise
in leaping eyes satisfy cheap and more like the
neighborhood whore. Again politics we’re all a piece
of the p.i. Equations of love; I haven’t believed in the
endurance of the heaven but of the heat of the moon
rather than the sun. Oh but there is not enough love.
I believed in interference like a negotiation not dictatorship.
Not state nor civilian institutions agriculture is slavery or
organized religion. Like paid love I can’t get into the social
contact, you and I the stateless society. So I thought no divine
right. Nor even pre-history changes the fact of kings. They stroll
without crowns they clown like clowns upside down pretending
equality, like we did. Yet in the end, we all now have the divine
right of kings and the internet to set us free. And I sent you three
likes and two texts to say I was sorry about not being on time
but by the time you already learned to survive.
words and image by Vanessa Matic
