Love, love is a drug
That can make you dream
All day long
And imagine things
That aren't there
And live and relive
Events of high passion
That never happened
And upon the completion
Of a day's journey,
All you have left
For yourself
Is a pounding chest
With a bleeding heart
And an endless headache.

Love, love is fable
Where you smile statically
In an allergic reaction
To jolly songs that pollute the air
And loneliness has choked
In the adverbial companion
Of your soul
Until the ghastly force
Of randomness,
Unfairly so, dries
Your hope, your bliss
Until not a drop of mirth
Remains on this foul world
Until the dust in a hatred desert
Blinds your reason for being.

Love, love my dear
Is really quite mythical
It's a bed-time story
That's told to preclude
The truth from existence:
Love is a blood contract
For an epic death so painful
So wreck, so distasteful
That doesn't exist in Hell!
Love is a serious affair
And so don't be offended
If when you say you love me
All I can say in return,
In frantic despair,
Is please don't.