A bag on your head kind of love poem

I’ve been trying to write a poem about you 
But it’s hard with all these neon lights pinching my lungs 
and the cars accumulating on my eyelids 
Although you don’t get hurt if you walk slowly 
through all the borderline smell of painted plants
I’ve been trying to understand what is happening 
on the streets when you walk them 
I think they become someone’s insomnia 
I want you to hurt me for real, 
like those sociopathic lovers in college 
Who made me write and write and write 
until the page bleeds,
That is my mental strategy:
Stay safe, 
I’ve been trying to be safe 
by fighting every night 
I imagine us stuck forever in a Chinese strip club 
where women throw themselves at you 
While I watch. 
I love your fast metabolism, boy,
We all do. 
This is a love poem in which I put a bag on your head until you choke
Maybe I can throw in some Chinese men as well 
Just because it’s not fucking fair.

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