This Love Thing

It makes me foolish
This love thing
Makes me
An oblique man,
That’s me
No good to make a living
Lord Darwin,
What’s there in a kiss?

Strand me
‘fore I empty the tellers
For her.
Sue me,
‘fore I punch the buggers
Who dreamt her nude.
Cuff me
Rough up me
I am doped
Dopamine doped,
Lord Darwin,
There’s no hope in me.

Giraffes that got tall necks
Apes that lost cheeky tails
Men that preside the boards
They win take home genes
They fuck
All fit dudes
I love, Lord Darwin
Pure abyss.