"Love is nothing else but pleasure accompanied by the idea of
an external cause" Spinoza (1674)
I am in love with many dead – not just with mom, Dr. Freud, not just with dad,
But with so very many others... They’re close to me like sisters, brothers,
They give me joy, excitement, thrill, they join me anytime I feel
Like having one of them around. They’re always waiting in the background,
They bear my whims, fulfill my fancies, they always give me second chances
And even third ones, and fourth... They give me happiness and force
Me to be better, not get worse (they're deadly tolerant, of course),
And to become a better man before I will be one of them.
They wrote songs, they wrote books, and we are all on their hooks,
Trying hard to reach their dead souls. They shape our lives, guide our goals,
They set examples, raise the bar, they bring us high and carry us far
From daily boredom with its grudge. We owe them so very much!
We are in love with many dead. They’re always willing, never say “nyet”,
Allowing us complete control they give it all, never drop the ball.
If love means happiness, means joy, it’s not a lie, perversion, ploy
What is said in the lines above – with many dead we are in love.
Sasha Ovsich