with war you know where you stand,
when it’s time to wave the white flag
when it’s time to pull the trigger
time to run. hide. mount a chase. drop the bomb.
strike.
you know when you have won
and when you’ve gone and got your ass whipped.
love is different. you never quite know where
you stand. one minute you are making out
the next you are making statements for divorce
blocking bank transfers, cutting off the phones, changing the locks
though i’m tired of all the anger
the bitterness, the frustration and resentment.
the arguments, the bitching, the lunacy.
i’m tired of slashing car tyres, shitting through letterboxes
chopping up designer clothes and punching the walls.
i’d rather listen to Neil Young than fall in love.
i’d rather shoot some pool, read Bukowski, Ginsberg, Hemingway
go for a swim, eat a curry.
count the stars, play my guitar ‘till my fingers bleed
walk my dog in torrential rain.
i’d rather eat my Mum’s home-cooked roast dinner than fall in love.
now even that
is slightly less painful.
