BLACKHOLE SUN 1. Poem by Peter Verhelst

1.
It is better to be a martyr to our love than live
As a murderer. Not love, but life brings us fatigue.
Life is too cruel for poetry, no matter how creative
And lovely your mouth is, whether we are in league

Or not, one day the moment will come you can't tell
Who I am any longer, as if I, that is,
Am just a thing, a boring weight, my body a shell,
Nothing more to stroke or lick or kiss,

Something that is in the way, the obstacle.
Life is too coarse for us, not good enough,
Too many rules, a hassle and cackle.

It stains us, it dirties what both you and I
Dreamt we would be, a Siamese twin, a new star sign
Stitched onto the dark fabric of night.