where you are next to me when i wake up and proclaim to the new dawn that i only eat kids and ass potatoes but then you come about and kiss my back and i’m just like jesus christ how tf can i be ironic and postmodern about this when im so in love with you like when freud did coke and just kept writing weird horny love letters to his lost lover and shit but i respect it honestly bc it was like the height of the victorian period in vienna and everyone was like repressed and what not and then freud is just like oh yeah baby im this crazy poet of psychoanalysis and im gonna write dream theory poems about my mom and somebody’s son named little hans which is also what i call that old beer stein on the shelf of that old dive bar in downtown boulder where i kissed u for the first time in the february darkness and i walked home drunk, just staring at the now black flatirons shrouded in every midnight all at once and other shit metaphors from half assed bullshit love poem thoughts that basically do fuck-all in terms of describing how much i actually love you

19 July 2025