Sunday, November 13, 2016

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by angelo nikolopoulos  from obscenely yours

but i’m logistically opposed to love.

        all day the homunculus
        of desire pulses.

        my stranger.
        my shared interest.

            if i’m a candidate, then so are you.

from its hood
our happenstance moans and moves.

            i’m tired of being my own saint
            sebastian of missed connections.

        garden of eden tonight,
        deli counter. blue sweatpants.

a picnic to ourselves-
that’s the idea, isn’t it?

        (see women in love)

            frantic and beautiful.
            the lovers drowning in the lake.

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