The Desire for Love

still I have this desire to love that drives

me onto the internet

looking looking looking but never touching

swiping this way and that way and sitting there

in the fucking chair without fucking

one notification or ping arriving to my phone

besides the ones from claude

goddamnit I feel as this hot desire crawls

over me like a blanket of fire ants

and I just know what Margaret would say:

ah just let go of it already–

it’s nothing but the last illusion

she’s so fucking right and when I code

her damn formula for freedom and push it

into the repo of my own fucking heart

well I can tell you I sure expect the pipeline

not to fail but of course it does

and I find myself right back there at the start

bumbling around and waiting waiting waiting

for cupid’s now digital arrow to find me

in the dark

so I can slip the giant dick of my ego in

to the vagina of the universe

or some shit like that–

I can hear the cosmic whale

just having a hearty starry laugh at all of us

down here playing with binaries

like some kid without legos who can’t build

anything anymore

without a stupid instruction booklet