I've got no romance left in me. I know I once had it. I have no need
for love. You might have something to say about that, you might
have a few names to call me. I'm not that desperate anymore. That's
not to say that I've slacked off in the desperation department alto-
gether, far from it. I have less time and less things in my mind to
convince me of the need to support and perpetuate a lie.
Some will tell you that they need love to live. Well shit, people will
tell you a lot of stuff, like how you owe a stranger your life to
uphold the lie he's selling this week. Weakness is painless. Like
sliding down a razor so sharp you wouldn't think to look down on
the floor and see all the blood. The other night I looked down at her
and almost forgot her name. It's just flesh. Put your tears in an enve-
lope and send them to Hitler. They mean as much to his dead ass as
they do to me.
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