Only lunatics fall in love

“It’s not my fault, you said that in the present tense”
“Oh did I?” she says with a touch of quiet ruefulness like settling gunpowder from a smouldering barrel.
Four years is a long time to graft another heart to your stem and have it ripped leaf from leaf.

And that’s what scares me so much about that filthy four letter word – love
You cast your lots, throw away the dice in fact, alter your dreams, abandon the rules that make you you, placing faith in fate
And temporarily forget that you live in a world forged on the back of slaves, hurtling towards the sun at whatever miles an hour, that geomagnetic reversal could happen any minute bringing us to a long awaited (and needed apocalypse), you forget that the land of milk and honey is littered with marred mothers, fragile fathers, dead sons, unwed daughters, Fukushima is still leaking, the bees are dying, the bats are taking us with them,
And it’s in another you anchor yourself, to the wanton whims of flesh and bone, the wiles and smiles of another stumbling fool on this jagged planet

Are you insane?