I'm trying to write about our fucking relationship
without using "fucking" as an adjective.
It's harder than you'd think.
Harder than it should be i think
which makes it stay there. Fucking
in the middle of everything
fucking things up.
Fucking you and fucking me
Fucking who?
Nobody, seriously,
I swear.
Sometimes i think our fucking relationship
is a prism. An object that when hit by
a single point of light, splits it up into a spectrum.
too many colours. Like benneton.
(i realise i just compared
our fucking relationship
to a chain of clothes shops
And a chain of clothes shops
to a prism)
Fuck Ra, let's make out
under neon light.
It's diffusive not divisive,
and we can be effusive
Ignoring the missives
sent by errant particles
Lasers shot by bastards.
No fucking you and fucking me
our relationship:
just us.
And to hell with dichotomy.
Fotos: Harley Weir
