Please let me have several weeks
So that my anxiety can decompress
Several weeks
That I might feel comfort again
With you
Give me several weeks
So the furniture is gone
And we can properly pretend
That there is no history
Past or future
Only the present

Cause you don't need this
And this is just practice
For your epic
If you don't
Stop for a month of Sundays
And really think about
What it is you're writing
Who you're antagonizing
I guarantee that you'll never
Ever
Have time to formulate it all
Type for a month
And you'll never get far enough
To encourage bindings

NO more
Fix that
All that *******
That makes you RAMBLE
Yeah I said it
You run on at the mouth

Just kiss me
Tell me how you feel
With the mustached upper lip
And your fat bottom lip
Leave me mouth insides
That I have to wipe off

Several weeks before you leave me a poem like this
Don't do it.
I'll leave something that like this
Raucous. On blast. Larger than life.

Don't **** this up.
I JUST got you a job.