She sits there on a chair
brown eyes
brown hair
where opposites attract
and attacks me with familiarity.
I modestly avert my eyes
her ****** tells me more lies
and I have no reply to this.
But should I kiss and comfort her
the chair that sets a demarcation line would be
but just a simple waste of time
and I in time could come to see
her ****** is not for me
but for her sense of
femininity.

I couldn't care less
my bedroom's in an awful mess
I'm going to strip off to the buff
jump out the window
I've had enough or not enough
stuff this life
I hope out there I find an equilibrium.

Like a wayward sheep I follow her
but does she care?
she doesn't give a hoot
gives me the boot and says I'm just a stalker
but she knows she's trapped me in this baby walker
and if I the baby catch her eye as she wanders slowly by
what does she do?
but ignore me and I abhor that.
She's like a wild cat sometimes between the sheets at bedtimes
but those times are few and far between.
I've seen the writing on the wall
she's calling time
that says it all
I should have jumped
stopped the pumping of my heart
I know I'll never be a part
of her.
She doesn't care
she doesn't give a hoot
I think I'll shoot
myself.