The pepper's broken
I tell you to fix it
You moan and whine

You tell me to get wine
Your favorite is 30 bucks
You say it tastes like sulfides

You tell me to get rid of my boxes
You tell me to get rid of my boxes
I leave my books in a four foot stack

On the bench
(That i asked you to clear so i could sit
To put on my shoes)
In front of the shattered print
That you always hated that my cousin gave me
And next to your bags and bags
That you won't get rid of.

You tell me I'm an *******.

You tell me nothing
and when i ask
You tell me nothing's
wrong
You tell me go away
You tell me don't leave
You tell me not to type so loudly
You tell me not to sit alone in the bathroom
You tell me not to write you letters
Well this isn't for you.

You chase me around telling telling yelling me.