Written by: Chris Grundy

Like so many things in life, this is funny
There is this girl, I think, 
In my mind she is bursting with laughter and over-flowing with love and affection,
She isn’t with me now, literally, two towns separate me from her.
I am junky in withdrawal, I tap my vein, but she is in somebody else’s pocket.
She says she loves me, but never have I been more aware of the lack of literal substance of words
As they gush, easily, invisibly, past the lips of the person I would die for.
Its 60-40, I would go further for her than she would for me, in my head,
She says she loves, opposite me, around my waist, into my eyes, onto my lips and along my tung,
Definition, life is about definition, about our personal definition of everything, always, and
Our calculated manipulations of others definitions of everything, always,
2+2 doesn’t make four in love, for me, for her, it does,
Reason and logic desert my body and I become a tool of her desires, she never exploits,
My minds walls turn to foamy adolescence, insecure piles of idiocy and shaky characteristics,
Are a rising and a falling at her every un-meant whim.