Trainwrecked

I suppose love can not
Be
Won...over...here.
Can not be understood always
Or controlled.
Can not be made to do what it will not.
Can not
Force it, or coerce it...
Can not make it agree
If it
Doesn't.
Love, (my bitch), as so I'm Her's
Taking as she will and often thoughtless,
As I train-wreck,
The Body to the mirror,
And all that's really there...
I
Trainwreck.
And so does she.
And Love is not something that is so understood here,
Rather noted, and spied on...
Watched and documented
Observed and analyzed, I'm sure often
Into
No-Truth at all.
Mirrors, already cracked
Make it pain a little less.
I'm used to the bleeding at my tummy;
Womb & girl
Still there, only...
And I'm getting used to the tares,
Like Losses
And Grief.
So the mirrors in them,
Around me,
Don't sting so..
Quite so,
Badly..

Train wrecked
Fucked in bed.
My mind-body dwells in everything heavy and universally tangent that I know.
I am full with Goddess
And tired to the heart
By Human Chance.

Fucked lifeless.
In this Joke of a Dance.
Ambivalence, a mask
Dance.
My Luck song.