If love is sex and sex is love

What hope is there for us?

What hope for love?

The dying decaying current

Of this week’s model running cold and free

Through the veins of all who think they know

 

Is love a femme fatale?

A fumble in the dark

Ten straight vodka and cokes

And the futile gesture of words

That speak open mouthed

Yet say nothing

What hope has love

 

If love is nothing more than a fizzing pill

Slipped into a drink on a night out

A comatose model doll lying in the shadow

Of somebody else’s train wreck week

Then what is us

The rush and the rash

The headlong charge

To prove that last night he or she

Had a little bit of you know what

 

Is love a glorious moving picture

Of eternal sensual pleasure

Or an Asian massage relief for a crumpled twisted

Twenty-pound note

A red-hot bed to be talked of in your head

To be walked away from

As easily as leaving a lonely dog

 

Or is love

Something to be courted and won

One more battle worth fighting for

Is love the holding hugging smiling words?

That are more than just a moon light shadow

Is love the care of reaching another ready swollen heart?

And feeling love in return

Is it love that that says yeah?

Right in the middle of something else

If it is not

Then love is just sex

And all is perhaps lost

Because love is not just another it