Hey you, let's get it on,
but first let me hit thing ****,
for the sinful lust of obscuring reality,
will help us fight the feelings of mortality.
As we have lived with restrictions upon our souls,
while handed down our hollow goals,
circumventing our wills,
with those little red and white pills..
So is it wrong to want a reprieve?
And not always have a job to receive,
whether it's life's responsibilities,
or our peers hostilities,
sometimes I just need a break,
and while society asks me sleep,
it helps me stay awake.

To get the attention which I crave,
must a be a materialist slave,
******* out to the highest bidder,
get me a look and I'll never reconsider,
being within this self-centered life,
filled with someone's drama, love and strife,
my friends are the magazines on the stand,
as I judge them on which is more tanned.
I used to have hopes, dreams and aspirations,
I was original and had my own foundations,
but as I aged and my desires grew deep,
I began to follow with the other sheep,
social interaction was overrated,
I just need a like for my addiction to be sated,
for what's the use of a dear old friend,
when I've got a friend request to send.

I just want to sleep.
Please let me fall into a dark slumber,
one where I am by only what I wonder,
I can get away from all of the pain,
while finding comfort in the utterly insane.
To be attacked by a brain eating cow,
would be preferable to any politicians vow,
or maybe to travel, naked, in space,
would be preferable to societies disgrace.
Because we have stopped the comfort and care,
and pay attention to only what we wear,
as we become slaves to the newest song,
where we hear about how everything is wrong,
but we don't care; didn't you see Oprah's thong?
So yes, I would rather fight off giant slugs,
or realize that I can only walk on my head,
its better than societies drugs,
and its better than being dead.

When I am feeling alone, I walk in the grass,
I bear the wind as it blows, and watch time pass.
I remember the years which have left you and I,
and how we never had a proper goodbye.
We always spoke of how we'd stay friends,
now I see things through a corrective lens,
while we would laugh about simple little things,
I didn't realize how inhibited were my wings,
How you would make me feel like a king,
while secretly clipping my wing.
Waiting for me to step out of our nest,
attempt to fly, but falling at best.
So like unlike a bird which I strove to be,
I learned to use my feet, and chose to flee,
for while you hoped to hold on for long,
I soon found out,
I couldn't wait to be gone.

Make a joke,
laugh a little,
and antagonize the issue.
It's just a poke,
they are all so brittle,
she just needs a tissue.
"I haven't seen it",
"doesn't affect me".
Say what you want to make it fit,
and ignore the resounding plea,
"but she was all over him!",
the antagonists cry,
as you expect her to act on every whim.

I love sadness like I hate my poetry; as they both equate to only drawn out pain.

For my poetry is not like the art which I have grown accustomed to; nor is sadness similar to its depiction in media.
While writing can relinquish my heart into incoherent sentences, omitting me from pent up thought.
Yet, sadness fills me with pain,
allowing me to appreciate my emotional chain.
Teaching me how love and lust can create a chaos so spectacular,
while recognizing my poetry may not be very vernacular,

But that is okay,
because I don't really give a ****.

It was a bit ago when you left,
You see, it caught me off guard,
I never considered you capable of theft,
But when you stole my heart, I took it hard.