Love:

   I'm tired of LOVE. It's fantasy.  Hollywood and Hallmark vomit.  Putrescence and danger mixed into one big storm. Love has the ability to crack ribs wide away, exposing the red red heart.

   Love is not candy hearts and roses. Love is not sweet and soft. Love is a veritable tornado, strong enough to tear through the jungles of India, ripping up palm trees and tigers.

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   It is a waterfall of misery. Love doesn't slow down as it blasts the deserts and sends scorpions sky high.
  It doesn't abate, but transforms into a class five hurricane, swirling whales and fishes round and round. It shifts the shorelines permanently.
  Love takes everything we've ever thought about it, and shreds those ideas to bits. Millions of little pieces. Love then burns new ideas and feelings into the backsides of our hearts and eyelids. Love is not pure or innocent. It's a monster with a vengeance. Love is dangerous and disastrous.

.......But I am weak, and have a masochistic desire for Love to crack my ribs,  and throw sand in my eyes. I'd enjoy tigers falling out of the sky and landing in an angry heap at my feet, if it meant Love had altered my mind's coastlines and forests and heart permanently.  Love would probably kill me if it had the chance....

   ...I am not afraid to die. But I'm scared to death of Love...