Love in the Pink Room, pt.1

Unless you’re asphyxiating in the slipstream, there is nothing you can say to a subliminal treatise about love and lust and obsession; nothing, nothing you’re not supposed to know. You don’t know. But now I tell you, this, I tell you, this treatise I write and read and breathe and bleed for you to almost hear, hoping it will infect your dreams with imagery thick enough to make you think my smiling face camouflages corrupt money, this is my way of saying what I can never say to your face, in your mouth, to your head, in your mind, to the place where you accept that honesty is the only policy and love follows this rule: Love knows no honesty.

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