Precious beautiful boy, stupid little fool boy, sakes alive, what am I to do?
You didn't realise you belonged, and I guess I waited too long to tell you all the things I never knew I had to.
A wicked world of ****** doubts, a sudden single strikeout, can't believe I'm still here and yet you're gone.
Now I guess I'll try to stick it out, but everything is so wrong and life has no business just going on.

I have never felt more sorry; but if you'll forgive me, I'll avow:
if you thought life was bad before, then you should see it now.

And I have never felt more heartbreak; it reaps despite my best
efforts to rip the ******* thing the **** out of my chest
and I would tear apart my eyelids if I thought it could help me see
how these diamond eyes bring some folks high, but they just don't fly for me.

I try to consult my conscience but it speaks to me in tongues,
so I'll settle for poisoning my liver and blackening my lungs.



There's a wound in my world but I'm sadder for you for you'll never know happiness, forever uncompleted.

You wanted happiness for us, but he's gone forever and I'm sorry mommy, for I am defeated.

It takes one to know one swift fell swoop
like a bat out of hell and certainly the belfry.
If you've something to prove to the birds and the bees,
I won't bat an eye at your rhinoplasty.

I'll take two hoots, 'cause I sure won't give them.
Find somebody else to get up and go;
I cry like I fly like a carrion crow
and I've two left feet and no time to tango.

It takes three strikes 'til it's not just company
any more — it's a crowd and my agoraphobia
is making this worse, so I might disperse.

If you don't quite care, let's put two and two together;
playing pretend we're birds of a feather.
I could commend, but that's such a no-no;
you're more like a doornail to me, less like a dodo.

And if you don't much mind, I might just take five.
I'm chicken-livered, but at least alive
though I feel like a dead duck, dusted and done.
I won't be there, I'll stay fair and square,
right back at square one.

Now can you see how this is cyclic?
Makes me feel one sandwich short of a picnic,
up the wall, and driving me sick.
Apologies, I don't mean to nitpick,
and I know I've a number of bees in my bonnet,
but I've zero interest in your haiku and sonnets.

So here's one for the road,
turn by the way the devil drives you home,
and one good turn deserves
another.