Van Gogh Doggie Style
There are stars embedded in the painted black sky, and we are there in love, dinning, in the black stomach flu, of van Gogh's mother's death. "He" is not allowed. He is too crazy to be here in HIS own painting. So we nibble the edge of HIS severed ear, while we hear OUR love, poetry out-loud, my love and US sipping noodles like Lady and the Tramp, getting closer and closer, but our lips never meet in the middle because they belong to someone else. We can't even love the movie because it has already been loved. She loves that movie. She loves that movie more than you or me. Even if, my little girl self and your little boy self still love that movie. This woman loves it more. She loves The Tramp. They are in a sexual doggie style tie, facing opposite direction on the front lawn of Disney Studio. Visitors are complaining. This is why SHE's dressing like a princess on HER Facebook, with a knife in her hand, blood running down her eye, and we are all parked here watching, in stagnant emotion, from our computer chairs under the starry starry universe of THEIR broken heart and OUR broken emotions.