She said she loved his long hair,
That's why when he went to the hairdresser he got his hair buzzed.

Pick, tweeze, pull, pluck:
   Glance in the mirror for my next tuck.

      Here's a confession: it's a horrible obsession.
         My beauty is no longer in my possession.

I'm manufactured; a walking billboard of cosmetics.
   I'm but skin covered metal and prosthetics.

     Try as I may, reality will never meet my ideal distortions.    
        I no longer know my natural proportions.

Every night I miss you.

You were curious as to what lies in store
But when you started I was more curious about you
You were a natural
A talented and bright person
I was lucky to have taught you
But my luck ran out when you became far away

i've been drinking lately like there's a message at the end of every bottle
hopping to find one written about how I'll get my life together but it seems like I haven't been drinking enough to get to that message
or maybe the message is to quit while i'm ahead

Poets inscribe sentiments
Inspire by intuitive elements
Which accumulated from existence
In this complex life excites indulgence.

Singers sing out their emotions
Inspire by ardent romantic notions
Which linger in the hearts that beat
With magical feelings that excite heat.

Both poets and singers are articulate
In expressing the intimate human state
Of the complexities yet well-meant phase
Living it up in this world quite perfect maze.