There is nothing special about you and you expect me to write you a poem. Here:
You are waking up at 11 in the morning and still feeling groggy,
luke warm water left under my bed.
You are sea monkeys, a parasite, a slight sore throat.
You are what is created everyday, waste. Won't
you kiss me again, unbutton my jeans? Tell me to write for you
words that have meaning. But you're trying so hard to connect
while my hand has been on the plug and my mouth left your neck
months ago. That was months ago? Tell me again how you got that scar,
how anime is weird and I'm beautiful. You're nothing special to me.
Here is your poem. Stay in school. Fall in love, drink some more, buy a house,
I hope your father doesn't pass away.