You press buttons.

...

You press buttons,

everywhere buttons.

Instead of a loud

what the fuck is this?

and then an is this shit love?

you say order some pizza maybe?

Bacon? Onions?

You follow the first random girl home -

some Maria something or some George.

You press -or not press- buttons

to declare I like it,

bullshit,

I am attending.

Instead of telling her

to keep the baby,

you follow the glorious museum of modern art

- I know my art shit,

I know the painter of Guernica.

No museum will come to your bed at night

and kiss you in the back of your neck

-You don't care, 

you eat

you pray

you die

you press buttons.

....