lust

Love In The Modern Era Is Irrational, Illusory and Superficial, and here’s why

Photography by Ren Hang

my love letters travel milestones in the blink of an eye

this is love in the modern era

 

we listen to the same kind of music and call it ‘shared taste’

i say my days feel like autumn skies

and cinnamon fills up the empty spaces of my ever young soul

my color these days has been tangerine

but i wish i could feel purple again

plum maybe, anyway

something dark to resemble this death i’m experiencing every year

my skin is getting pale and my bones tend to come out

to play

 

i have all the reasons to greet happiness right in this moment

i don’t why

but i can’t quite feel it properly

 

this makes me look ungrateful

i swear i’d shout out loud to the stars

that i’m happy inside, even though the words may never come out

they howl at the moon

the moon howls back at them

endlessly

with raw desire

 

i feel unreal kisses on my shoulders

this is what love in the modern era means

the illusion of presence but the persistence of absence

the urge to type and press send to pretty words and late night confessions

the need to be understood by strangers who only share the never-ending longing,

soreness of the always tired, always on the road soul

sometimes i let my demons come out through my ears

they rest at the base of my throat for some time

then crawl back inside, right after the conversation’s over

i think they’re playing me

darling, they’re playing both of us

trying to get us to believe they’d be buried alive or burnt to the ground

they are demons and they’re coming from hell

they need no saviour, no prosecutor

just that someone to calm their loathing selves

they’re children like you and me, looking for solace in wanderers

let us caress them

maybe

they will caress us too sometime in the future

when we’re both laying on our backs

and i’ll tell you to let your little friends come out and have a real chat with mine

we’ll teach them mercy and honesty and they will be humble

when they grow up we’ll set them free

and we’ll be free too

just you and me

for as long as forever means in the modern era.

 

—

Submitted to ArtParasites by Vlada Bunescu

 

 

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