what's love and marriage really about?

[punklady]

what is it really? i feel love but i then i don't feel love..it's weird...is he just gonna become a roommate that i hang out with once in a while if i'm lucky? is he just gonna be another buddy for me to casually screw? i want to be 'in love' but i've done that already...there's not much left after that, is there? sometimes i feel more like his mother instead of his wife, the one who has never left his side, through the good and the bad, ad nauesum...why do i have still have fantasies of other men and women? why do i always think of them when i'm touching myself in the shower? why are they the ones in my wet dreams..why do i see their faces now and not his? the so called sexperts say it's perfectly normal for people to go through this and that it doesn't mean that you don't love the one you're with, but if that's really the case, then why do i feel like i've been cheated out of being a good wife? i really wanna fucking know why...the longer it takes me to find some kind of meaning in this situation, the more confused i will become. the good people at the bisexual resource center call it "internalized oppression"..from a purely scientific, objective, and logical standpoint, it makes perfect sense..but that doesn't help me to come to terms with it very much. nothing sucks more than getting to the point where you're finding polyamory more and more of an interesting concept....that's what i get for (maybe?) being in love with two people at the same time...what the hell am i doing? i'm so god damn confused..these magnetic, kismet attractions are gonna be bad news for me...i know that to be true..but it's kinda awkward knowing that when you're sitting there talking to a close friend, you can't stop thinking about how you'd hook up with them if you were single....that's gotta be fucked in anyone's eyes..

Fools For Love

What's all the commotion?
you got a promotion
to the upper echelons
in the pantheon
of disguise.
Rising above the rest
and beating upon your wounded chest,
you are beautiful, like Icarus before the fall.
Strangely constructed lies keep you wise
as you adamantly glue your eyes to the prize,
the golden fleece that a foolish Jason bled for.
The cogs are turning
while you are burning
for the right time to
drop the right line to
set you free and let you just be.
You drink naive while others take their leave,
and, as you contract the disease, there are
newbies crying over and over again, "please".