I wonder how you sit on piles of beatific feelings
While the poor are starved for hope.
They are ready to consume anything uplifting.
Many folks are competent enough to give their time and money.
But I find a bad taste in my mouth
When those presented with the gift of gaiety
Choose only to share it with a select few.

You attempt to make clear that your genius is blatantly obvious yet hard to explain.
I stroll towards the champagne.
"Whats wrong? Am I being too plain?”
Your words hit like a train, causing intolerable pain.
The letters you manage to tie together tend to intoxicate my brain.
But I have promised myself that I would be nothing but honest, even in vain.
So I whisper affectionately to you in order to explain,
"Your words often remind me of acid rain."  
The reasons for your sentences are rarely found down the drain.
Except maybe to precipitate folks a great deal of pain.

I struggle with the seatbelt in your car.
You express passionately,
"You'll have to stay with me forever."
You don't understand how much it frustrates me that I love you.
Because I know the whole unadventured world lays ill at ease outside your smeary windows.
But the safe sentiment of your vehicle leaves me wrestling with myself.
To be free or to be unassailable.