Love in the Pink Room, pt.3

Love hates honesty because love is honest to itself. (To love, honesty outside of love is a charlatan, a whore, again, a cheap tool and nothing more.) Love does not feel an obligation to be honest to humans, or to society, or to religion, or to antiquated mores. Love is honest with the picture it carries in its breast pocket and that picture is a mirror. In the picture love is smiling and that is always good enough for love. If you don’t like it, you can lump it, but you will still love love or hate love; either way, to love, it’s the same emotion, the same energy. It’s the same glance in the mirror, your grimace or lip-licking smile. Love smirks at you when you look at it closely on the glass surface, doesn’t it? Yes, it does. That is why you get so frustrated. Love just leers back at you. Love says, ha, I’m honest with me…I’m forthright with me…I love me. You’re the one who must learn to deal with it.

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