“Some of you sitting there with your cock in your hand/Don’t get you nowhere Don’t make you a man” —John Lennon, “I Found Out”
Women never fall in love with men.
They fall in love with wishes.
Sure why shouldn’t women fall in love with a man who doesn’t exist?
What is a man? Someone who jerks off into their fist.
A man is a plan, and also he is what he plans.
A woman is what she plans. A plan is a woman—the best plan of a man’s.
Plans are wishes and wishes are the best plans for adoring fans.
Do you see what I can do?
I can write a poem to you,
But not really to you—because other people see it, too.
I love you, but you don’t exist
Except as a plan, as a name on a list,
As someone in a picture, or someone in a bed,
Or a poem, perhaps, I was planning in my head.
The sexes exist for something higher; they don’t exist for each other.
Was Johnny being funny when he called Yoko, “mother?”
Is money funny, honey?
