A woman gave me her heart.
I found it bore a faint swastika,
and at once I tore that ball apart;
no one approach works across the board.

Hearts, flowers.
Symbols, metaphor;
also, muscles and genitalia.
No one approach works across the board.

Planet, I implore you,
tear off my head and stop this thinking.
Then shit down my open neck and fill me with decay —
no one approach works across the board.

Positive thought about negative progress,
negative thought about reaching the end.
Targets acquired, I inhale, release.
No one approach works across the board.

I am most comfortable upon the edge of death,
forgetting a vibrant life can also charm and stupefy.
But hand in hand is how they walk most of the time;
no one approach works across the board.

I keep forgetting it’s easier to smile than frown.
I work hard, much harder than the smilers do,
and where it gets me in the end is exactly where their sloth gets them.
No one approach works across the board.