A sop of love...

My words are premature.

My love is an under cooked egg
that bursts and runs
all over the place
without form.

My love is seriously flawed;
It is largely inward focused.
My love is quite selfish;
it will not speak to anybody.

My love is a clutch of secrets,
that can never be articulated,
not even to my lover;
therefore my love will be for ever
incomplete.

My love is not even tangible:
It is very difficult to read.

My love is a 6ft tall skinny wimp;
Who wouldn’t hurt a soul,
(who would hurt a soul)
who isn’t entirely sure what a soul is,
but wants one anyway, especially if
it involves love, assuming love is
a good thing, which we all must
acquire and serve.

I once read that in times of war and famine,
families that had love within their household,
lived slightly longer than those who did not.
Only slightly longer but perhaps that is enough!

Love, prematurely born,
under developed,
stunted caught
How can you evolve?

Love,
6 billion
bodies must
have touched you.
and many more
have you in mind.

I cannot find you.
Privately, I search my room
for some trace of what you are
when we refer to you.

Love: what signifies you!
I cannot see clear enough!
I keep walking into walls.

Love: You keep me in your prison,
in absolute darkness.

Will someone cry for me?
I don’t have the heart for it.

Love it. Killed a Bee yesterday. Gay to say but hey, you wont be interested in the full version. What evolved from it maybe/n0ot A guy who’s the absolute definition of a: Fat Bastard is involved.

A baffling reponse!

bravo for baffling the King Baffler…