because I feel like it

- the second and last (love poem)

  "I want you to know that I hate you, baby.
  I want you to know I don't care.
  I'm happy when you're not around me,
  Glad when you're not there."
The Sex Pistols, "Whatcha' Gonna Do About It?"

Your combat boots looked naked w/out you
inside of them.
They were lying
by your bed like cast off
    skin.
  Neglected, really.

    So      I

sat on the corner of a chair & stared
at your boots cuz
if I looked at you too
long, that old bitch,
    - lust -
would rise up
again & alien ideas would give birth to even more
alien actions.
My head could have been
so easily entered

(terrorized

recognized)

at twelve o'clock.
I chainsmoked to give my lips something to do. Later,
I buzzed endlessly cuz Philip Morris wasn't accomplishing
    anything.
I do apologize, but I got nervous, & even more incoherent,
when I discovered that I sort of kind of maybe actually
    liked
you. I think I even said heroin was better than sex
at some point. I only mentioned it because I didn't
    want
you to think sex meant anything to me. It was a pretty
stupid thing to say, anyway. When I got home, I wrote a
    paper
& drank some orange juice & washed my socks & tried
to convince myself that I really was just as cold and
    unemotional
as I've always been & nothing was different now except

the name.


-- copyright Siouxzin, 1996