Thursday, February 8, 2018
Poem #234
Love is a manufactured Hell, a type of accepted insanity really that holds the possibility is actually true that one man and one woman can live together, make little humans, work, play, save money, vacation once a year, throw bang-up parties with good music and good food, take dance classes just because, manufacture a few arguments just to have killer make-up sex forever and ever until each and every orgasm pays each and every bill that comes inevitably each and every single month until the day they die... your damn right love is a manufactured Hell!
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