Timeless love

Who really has time for love?
I mean… who really has time for that undying, unconditional, world changing, life altering,
Singing about sunshine and dandelions when its 20° below zero, cutesy wotesy, ‘I love you, now I love you more’, I can’t live without you love?
That scribble your name in my notebook over and over again just to see how my first name looks with your last name love?
That I want to meet your parents to further our connection love?
That you’re my sky moon and stars and nothing is put above you love?
That I’m willing to die for you at any moment love?
Who really has the time?
Who really has the time when there are wars to be fought over security in our homeland?
Who really has the time while poor innocent youths are starving?
Who really has time when our young men are killing our young men before their lives even have a chance to begin?
Our young sisters keep committing bodily sins and all big brother can do is grin?
Who has the time?
Well not me…
I’m too busy walking lines between poetry and politician to realize that it will take more than pretty words to make this world’s tales turn
So instead maybe I should just sit here and watch
Yes I’m too busy walking thin lines between revolution and poetry to imposedly impose my presence onto someone else.
I’m too busy trying to leave an undying legacy that I unknowingly end up dating myself, but can that really be bad?
Can dating myself truly make me either happy or sad?
I mean as long as I’m not sad I’m doing alright right?
I mean as long as 50:50 radioed saline salt water tears aren’t running down my eyes
I’m doing alright right?
I mean as long as creeks and cracks of an old empty house don’t keep me up at night
As long as I can get much needed 8.25 hours of sleep every night
I’m doing alright right?
I mean I’m a cool person so dating myself must be great
Like if I ever need to go on a date I can take myself
I’ll know exactly what I want to eat
What to order because I know my favorite treats
And I can pull out my own seat
And I’ll know which movie I want to see
And give myself compliments
And protect myself from other men
I would always pick up the tab and when I order ribs
I wouldn’t have to be shy when it came in a full slab.
After all, I am the perfect gentleman.
Maybe that’s why I find myself saying to hell with men
My momma always taught me they were rude self absorbed and trifling
So to hell with them
I mean someone there to only promote themselves couldn’t even begin to support my immortal
But people around me talk as though love is some portal that leads to white picket fences, 2.5 kids, a dog, a cat, and three acres of freshly manicured lawn that won’t upset my sinuses
It would never rain, and the snow isn’t cold
There’s always sirloin on the grill
And citrus being squeezed to delight the palette.
No one there is overweight or deals with hyper tension
If you were blind before love would make you see.
I mean love is the mind’s miracle elixir.
I’m sure I care more so for myself than any other man could
But they say love is necessary
You need love to be free
They say love is there for everybody,
But right now maybe love isn’t for me.