Who can hear it
Who can accept it
Who can love me.

Sure, sure, sure.
But everybody knows about you
You like hot girls
resting comfy in their
blessed twenties
and you
ignore the rest.

So who’re you trying to fool?

Now see here!
It’s more complicated than you
make it out to be!
I have some needs
that aren’t quite
greeting cards,
but that doesn’t mean
I don’t have some
that are.
Why not just be sweet
to me while you slip
off your things
and put your big breasts
into my
admittedly
too greedy hands.

If you match my strengths
and my weaker points
and I do yours
then
together–so they say–
we can rise,
becoming something
better than we were
when we lived apart
and begged God
for all this
bullshit.

Right?

Or is that just some more
bullshit?

Where are you?
I’m not bragging.
Why must I brag
every time I breathe?
It’s so gross.
Where are you.
I’m not mean.
Why do I always feel
a little up-nosed,
a little, let-them-die?
Why am I mean
every time I breathe?
It’s so gross.
Where are you?

OK, OK, never mind.