on limerence
- AND if I loved you Wednesday,
- Well, what is that to you?
- I do not love you Thursday--
- So much is true.
- And why you come complaining
- Is more than I can see.
- I loved you Wednesday,--yes--but what
- Is that to me?
Labels: poetry
The moment I inject discourse from my u. of d. into your u. of d., the yourness of yours is diluted. The more I inject, the more you dilute. Soon you will be presiding over an empty plenum, or, rather, since that is a contradiction in terms, over a former plenum, in terms of yourness. You are, essentially, in my power. I suggest an unlisted number.
Labels: poetry
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