trails

[orgenegro]

the emotional engine
runs
pumps
sticky and pink
cotton candy

use it,
don't let it use me,
drug them, not drug me
wear a mask of jolly colors,
the kind of thing
that can only be made
fake.

Underneath,
a
more clever by years;
each
amor, a weapon.
Don't work your way blundering
- for each that falls
heavy
for true sentiment,
falls hard
for manipulation -
weren't you
evidence?

Never have regretted sex much,
never for long -
sure sometimes it was
a symptom
but . . .