Don't love too much

don't forget too much
and don't move, if possible, too much.
too much drives away mystery,
muzzles chance, fogs up the glass of
desire. Don't live or die too much,
it's really hard, really, I understand.
I, a poet of sometimes, give you this advice
that I myself don't follow.
but don't listen to me too much
I've suffered too much
I have more to plow in the desert.
I didn't want to talk to you about myself,
I'm sorry, sometimes my navel is the only
friend I have.
by the way: don't give your friendship too much.
too much is extreme, it's the totality of the total.
but if we can't, if living is fire,
light it all up,
set it all on fire,
and let heaven go to hell once and for all. Come on, don't pay attention to me, come on, with your excessiveness
love until your bones rot
move every day, so that they don't have anywhere to send you an email
forget everything, because after all the world is full of lukewarm people
and mystery and chance and desire?
they've already screwed, oh yes they've screwed the
human heart for so long.
too much is the least of it, hit that fly,
it's summer. And see you later.