Perfect

perfect

How can you get depressed when you think about
Life ?
how can there be so many poets
i don’t understand
why there is so many poets is i think
the guilt of having written the poems in the first place.
imagine me writing this write now
I, so perfect when i’m writing you
who think of you in the most perfect ways
nude and cat-like free
young naked and on top of me.
Look over purity’s shoulder and you’re standing there
as if cottony teenage sex was real, or you
were a bookmark on written Believe
(a leather bookmark between two leaves) as if Believe
was dripping down on you, as if saying:
Love is the experience of understanding this as experience,
or the breaking of it,
its fixing
Love, who shared its front teeth with me.
If walking down the Hamburger Bahnhof I think of me: Adult
I think of me: completely fabricated experience
I think of me: perfectly liberatedly free
The most innocuous video might mean I love you totally.

pseudo hippy dragnet beastqueen
23 and alive enough to fuck
as if maybe empirically
No.