wassup wit the luv?
wassup with ur idea
of it? how could u luv,
but still be cold-blooded:
you've got hugs and kisses 
for ur misses, but a blind eye 
for ur brothers and cousinz?

you've got love for "the one",
or someone, but when it comes
to almost anyone else, ur selfish
all the sudden. you couldn't share
an ounce of what u feel for ur girl
or boyfriend, wife or husband.

i see that romeo and juliet
in all ur faces; a plague on
all ur houses, becuz of u 
the human race is a lexicon
of empty phrases: "i love you",
"i like you", "i promise", spittin'
that word vomit in letters, conversations
and sonnets-- knowing you don't mean it,
u just feel it for the moment, so it's whatever
wets ur vertical smile
or throbs ur penis.

the nature of the beast:
teenaged to ninety-nine
suffering with them teenAIDS,
u can't grow up. ur the flavor of the weak:
hawiian punch and fruit roll-ups. libido-striken
and whormone driven, that's thinking with
the wrong equipment. u still don't listen,
and try to live life like it's some harlequin
romance; let's separate the fact from
fiction: ur just dropping a bar 
of soap in this open-air prison.

what u call "love" is based on
superficialties, an exchange of keys to
each other's cars-- so ur myspace or yahoo
can be googled with the same keywords
that have already caused scars. ok, cupid?
and when that gets old, or the bills can't
be paid y'all split y'all separate ways: it's
another broken heart. take ur upstairs 
noodle and use it, deuces to them musical chairs 
with yourself as the prize in an S&M lair.

if not, you'll just keep going round
on that dummy carousel. ninety-nine
percent of time two people "love", love's
got nothing to do with it; they're cold-
blooded. and most couples who stay
together are just using each other as crutches.
wassup with the luv? u don't even know
the half of it.

SPiTace