What was, red blooded romance
Is now docile, dormant, and framed
Distilled by mass
In their rosy pink bundles
And out by the droves
Quiet and stillborn

I heave with agony
At the armies of rouge
Hue, pink
Stinking of juvenile infatuation!

My angst wrenches every muscle I possess!
As fluttering hearts
Clog the avenues
The Plazas the boulevards
Swinging their locked hands
While they goosestep carefree
Slobbering and gorging the entire time

But heartache still reaches me
Far away, in my icy caverns
Where the mists covet my frame with obscurity
Lapping up my own somber reasoning
My own carefully distilled loneliness