This is to someone in the forum. I won’t say who, because they’d say “no,” but I’m going to say the words anyway. I think deep down in their heart, they’ll know. I won’t even say their gender.

The elegy of living discounts my fetid corpse,

Those who drive in Cameros and chase the short skirt

Are already dead

You understand the cream, the crematory transience of being

Of Kant and Nietzsche and Morrissey

The banal grandstand in which we weep

Fortitude of lovers?

Or of pain

Call unto me and I shall hold thy hand

And my lips will caress thine

To be a loyal student

Doesn’t appeal

To be a vapid mind-drone

Doesn’t appeal

Only your embrace

Will free me from the landmine escapade that is

The grand paranoia