I love the way the moon comes
and goes,
and I am in love with love
and with the women who love me.
Love is a kind of emptiness,
a long howl of hunger,
and love is a kind of fever,
a whirlpool of desire,
and there is something wrong with love,
something terrible and unbalancing;
love is like a loud and endless scream,
like a tiger in the darkness, like an arrow in the night.

the person who made the poems said something akin to "i generated these poems, some of them are repetitive and bad, as love often can be too"