Please don’t give me chocolate.

I will eat it all.

Then again, I need chocolate.

Pure

organic

dark.

It gives me that extra love that 

New York keeps taking away from me.

As it enters the bloodstream

I can go back to cleaning buckets,

spraying pellons

loading flax in the beater.

Or writing 100 words when I have nothing to say.

It’s better than doing drugs I think

or looking around for people to kiss

since it releases the same chemicals.

A former lover, before becoming a lover

challenged the idea.

He was a good kisser.

But not THAT good.