art by Banksy




talkin’ cynical self-absorbed lovey-dovey blues …



All those hazy moons ago, when we slept in each others arms, when we felt we were blessed, wearing those 24-carat gold matching lucky charms,

we who knew the paradise that lay ahead, the glitterati loving us – the perfect couple, who were hotter than blazing hot in bed.



All those sunshiney days of way back when, we kissed deep, our chakras aligned so in-tunely bloody zen, sinking into the obliviousness, the vacuum that was our entire universe
then,

unaware of all else, of anyone around us as we breezed through life, floating past it all, lost in a marshmallow haze, as we sank deeper into our carefree daze.



Kisses and caresses, ensconced in our selfish crevasses, not giving a hoot, as long as you reeked of french perfume, as long as I showed-off my obscenely expensive silk suit,

as long as we valentined and new yeared ever on, blinded to the real world and all that was wrong, just so that we disappeared in each others eyes,


never sparing a thought about this, our earth, our world, as we trapezed by the multitudes, the throng,

where we should really, for heavens sakes, be simply human,

and to at least, at the very least, try to belong.




art by Banksy