Wasteland Mass

This was going to be about love.

I wanted to walk away from this

Feeling beautiful and refreshed;

But why, then, does the air smell

Like acrid dust and acid rust

Like the inside of someone else’s sedan

Everything should be okay

This was going to be about love

And not the truth

But the truth is that

This isn’t about love, it’s about

The other side of the coin

The protective rage that follows

With any amount of closeness;

The claws that come out

Except my anger isn’t

Sugar-coated in liquid metal

So I bloody my knuckles

Every single time

I want to shield somebody

From anything else

When you love somebody

It usually doesn’t end well

For you or for Cupid.