temptation springs eternal (or love is a guru)

The persistent shadows beneath our ways of life

Whatever happened to tragedy, whatever happened to Nietzsche hiding under his blanket sipping cold soup

all the aphorisms crusted to his mustache overlooking the Alps?

I’d find a new guru but stationary magenta sunsets

need to be painted.

The undulating overuse of metaphor’s a bore to me –

I want to touch and feel the four winds

Scratch & Sniff that stationary magenta sunset

without the aid of my senses.

I want to fuck every woman I ever wanted to fuck

without leaving my reading chair.

And so too does your guru.

But instead he turns to God

and I, to the other side of the room

where every woman shows me her smile

and her claws.