I looked,
I looked long and hard
and shouted-
"you're ugly,
you're atrocious
you're revolting
boring
and plain
aloof
unobservant
and so, so pathetic.
You're nothing but a useless,
worthless piece of trash
My God, could you be any more sad?
Stop those tears,
Nobody cares.
It's true what they say,
you'll never be loved,
you can't even make a decision by yourself!
So many symptoms, so many ails,
stop blaming them all on your daddy issues.
So you say you wanna die?
Then do it,
what's stopping you?
praying that someone will miss you?
Well grow up, because they won't,
grow up, grow up!
older with each day
but still just a child inside,
cocooned in your ailments on a tear-stained pillow.
Stop crying,
you ***** little mutt,
why do you keep waiting for others to sew you up and fix you?
Is it because your bones are so weak
you can hardly rise in the morning?
Is all of this true?
You know it is,
My God, you are such a sad little creature."

I've said all I've needed to say,

So I step back from the mirror.

There are so many. So many boys.

I like to hear the smart ones.
Who can cut a pi in half and use proper diction.
That's ****.

I like to see the handsome ones.
Who have impeccable shoulder blades and those sultry eyes.
That's ****.

I like to talk to the funny ones.
Who are fountains of wit yet still laugh at my jokes.
That's ****

They all like to see, hear, and talk to me.
They just don't know it yet.
I'm ****.

There are so many. So many boys.

You all complain.
But as my days in this house are numbered,
as the oaks begin to catch sunlight as if it were just for me,
I see now, more than ever before, that this is the most beautiful place.

I know by now you must be bored, but you don't see what I see.
I see the green and the green and the green again.
That bright green that only the god I half-heatedly believe in could have created.

I feel the sun that I've longed for in the rain that we so desperately need.
It's here now. It's here to tempt my inevitable return once I leave.
It's these trees I want. These oaks are the only ones that can please me.

I hear the crow of my boy, he's challenging me.
But I don't have the heart to tell him that our days are numbered.
My days in this house are numbered. And it's killing me.

I love this Valley. It's the only place I need.
It's here to tempt my inevitable return once I leave.

She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry

She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred

She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love

She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity

She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure

She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion

She exists harmoniously in my mind