A robust, wiry, shaggy-flop-fro-ed man
Straight arrow of the parking lot
Indifferent, are they ?

The temporary shoulder to cry on
The loving attention and support
A temporary happiness
Willing to extort
He's crazy about you
And it's only been a week
"I'd do anything for this girl"
So redundant, so ******* bleak
"I'm in love with her!" he shouts
And it's only been a week or so
He'll carry on the big burden
But does the love really show?
Drunken drama queen
My life's bags are still on scene
They're hiding away in your closet
They're staying there like the leaky faucet
Don't burn the bridge, my love
Don't let it burn
Come back at some point in time
Don't let it burn

You're an unhealthy fixation
Your dark obsessed heart
Should be an evisceration
Your stupidity stored away
Should be stored away,
Completely.
You're an unhealthy fixation
Those bold words after inhalation
Make me ***** with blood
Let those words bleed on the page,
Completely.
And then you will know entirely
That you are uncouth and stupid
You're an unhealthy fixation
Fixated on her, selfishly,
*Completely.

privileged and religious
your cliffhanging submission
cannot be fathomed
As you let everything go
And give yourself up
Become the black sheep
In the crowd
White and privileged
You're standing loud
Your smile shouts
Big white scary teeth
When you make ends meet
You will die in a cave
With your back to the light
Suffice, it is to say
Your group delves in delight
Inside a carton box of
Old churned milk and aluminum
Milk-white metallic melting
You to the ground and
Hardened and sound
Never were you found
In the poisonous space
of conforming diligence
Your soul hardens and
cracks as you travel
Every country, to say that
you have been there
To say you're a perfect
****** of Cretinous species
To be recognized; special
Suffice, it is to say
You are the black sheep

My hands hit the leaves
As I play airplane to the humming noise
Those invisible cars had run me over
Here I am again
I'm spent

Those invisible cars had run me over
For me to grow so much older
I am the flattened out boulder
I am too much of a widow
To be spent (Oh, Lord!)

If I ever had stood there for too long
Maybe they would have shooed me off
Set out my wings and spin my propellor
Become the pilot of my own choices
The head full of voices . . .

. . . And I'm spent