Poor me

The fundamental rule of art is
art makes sense
even though some art
only makes sense on drugs
or even self-pity

The fundamental rule of life is
life makes no sense
even on drugs or self-pity
yet life goes on even while
I try to make sense of it

Poor me!

If words made no sense
you would not read them
but I would still write them.
Love is the most powerful non-force
ever to break the laws of physics

I cannot die
if that helps you live
who needs gravity?
Why am I on this wonderful planet?
and why should chemicals matter so much?

Life is a disease ending in death
love is a drug that screws up the world
fear for self-preservation leads to great loss
the soul is utterly insane
but if these words made no sense...

Lack of understanding
powerlessness of my thinking
indecisiveness and lack of clarity
being as lazy as a turtle in the sun
all of a sudden seem like gifts

so much would be better unsaid
but it doesn't know how to hide