There is circumventing,
Then there is disruption
When it comes to
Naturally loving you.
I rather not
But the signs have me
Bewildered, and suddenly
I know it’s you
Smelling shit in the air
Like flies.
That you feed
In your maggot farm
Nurtured until adulthood
Like my old compost bin
Where a crown of a pineapple
Was eaten in two days.
That’s to say,
Your love is rotten.
I don’t want it
But the universe wants me
With you.
How gross.
