Gentrified glorification

A Poem by Carlo Marx

Is not mad the way we love just for now, this isnt about lusty love or sex, this is aboit the platonic brilliance of friendship and how we willingly let people we f*****g adore and admire pass us by

The fleeting fluctuations of now- feeling the pains of those whom we felt

Who we resonated with. As they f**k off....

But, of course, I f**k off to, to the next journey, and the next set of people who I too, will inevitable fall in love with, to another untainted perspective, a new vision, another set of meaningless qualifications. Yet, do not lose heart young mind. The intensity of that connection that does befall to the memory, it is yours

To hold. Hold amongst the angst and the pain and the meaningless and unstopable segway into the next and into the next and into the next damn stage of this life.

Let bureaucracy and regulation and rules not stop you; Dance in the serene f*****g emptiness replaced by the excitement as the realisation hits, that you can love, love, love, love without a moments reflection. The dying blue eyes of the sun cannot shine down a day longer on this darkened pained existence that entails conservatism, and capitalism and holding back.

Love, love, love until time refuses to f**k off, until you capture the essence of the f**k and reject the off to the negation of the in; fall in love with all minds that your mad heart meets

This life is yours and no f****r can f**k with that.