You were traditional,
And I was your French Revolution of sorts.
Off with their heads.

I love you
because you didn't believe me
when I repeated
"life is suffering."

Obnoxiously optimistic and
anticipating a firework or two
And all I had to do was flutter my eyelids
to get a peek, to exchange for strength each littler thing that said, "I am weak"

-cj

You didn't stay at the party,
Even though it was at your house
and you can still hear laughter coming from the living room.

You didn't stay at the party
You fled like a mouse
from the prey of the cat that you hoped would leave soon.

But it's five in the morning
God, you're so ******* boring

But the boy with the ukelele
Is still serenading the lady
Who has absolutely no interest
In becoming his mistress.

I'm writing this poem
because there's no way I'm a-goin
to sleep any time soon.

So you get to hear me comploon.

Complain.

It's 5 in the morning.

I've gone insane.

whatever you write
i'll believe

i believe in your imagination.

An oil spill
From a brain drain drill.

Whoops.

I didn't meant for my scoops of goop to fall in your soup.

So come on now, toss it all out.
Toss it out with the rest of that garbage,
that infected syringe.
We're better than this.

I prefer it chilled,
so would you mellow out?

There just isn't time for self-doubt.