There’s always been something about love,
something that begs to bring out the horror.
You see it with two comedic friends on a couch
watching Kathy Bates hobble James Caan
when what the couple really wants is to fuck.
Always suspected there was something more
to the slashers chasing the sex crazed lovers.
You see it in the pause before the bloody kills
when Michael and Jason were starting out
before they were trapped by their own devices.
To say always is to generalize the phenomenon
and reduce something surreal down to the mundane.
You see such reductions in every movie and show
where they attempt to mimic the ebb and flow
of the darkness and light found in Twin Peaks.
You will never truly understand Laura Palmer;
not who killed the homecoming queen, but how
you could fall in love with a fictional character
introduced to you wrapped in plastic and dead
but for the eerie feeling you could save the girl.
Wish it wasn’t so, but the connecting thread
could be that even the best of loves end in death.
You see it in the first of your grandparents to go
home alone after the only love they ever knew
didn’t want to go but was wrenched away anyway.
You see, there is nothing more horrifying than love
but for the thought of what you would be without it.
something that begs to bring out the horror.
You see it with two comedic friends on a couch
watching Kathy Bates hobble James Caan
when what the couple really wants is to fuck.
Always suspected there was something more
to the slashers chasing the sex crazed lovers.
You see it in the pause before the bloody kills
when Michael and Jason were starting out
before they were trapped by their own devices.
To say always is to generalize the phenomenon
and reduce something surreal down to the mundane.
You see such reductions in every movie and show
where they attempt to mimic the ebb and flow
of the darkness and light found in Twin Peaks.
You will never truly understand Laura Palmer;
not who killed the homecoming queen, but how
you could fall in love with a fictional character
introduced to you wrapped in plastic and dead
but for the eerie feeling you could save the girl.
Wish it wasn’t so, but the connecting thread
could be that even the best of loves end in death.
You see it in the first of your grandparents to go
home alone after the only love they ever knew
didn’t want to go but was wrenched away anyway.
You see, there is nothing more horrifying than love
but for the thought of what you would be without it.