ONEWEEK I FUCKING LOVE YOU
This furniture doesn't match my mood.
REMOVE IT!! GIVE ME A COUCH THAT FEELS JOY---!!!
Something screaming Something!
Something about the future and movement
Something wild and hazy and inveterate
Inveterate, that's what I was looking for. Someone---!!!
Give me a chair,
Give me a sense,
I have no more arguments.
I am alone, and no more arguments.
Do you have a sandwich?
Because-
Because-
Because after all this-
I am still hungry.
2 comments:
I love this poem. I also wonder how many people think we rage righteous over furniture? I hope a lot.
Futinure
Shit. I'd kill you for a good sofa.
If you did not plan for it
in our futinure.
How could you not think I wanted a full couch?
I make you answer in double
negatives because you hate them.
"I didn't not think you wanted the love seat."
Fuck this love seat. There is no love in the small seat.
Love is Dionysian and needs to sprawl with grapes you stupid, stupid Nietzsche.
You cannot salvage our futinure
unless it's a chase lounge at a good price.
Egg chairs, maybe.
This chair does nothing but keep me down
get down
boogie woogie
table dance
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