This Might Be About You.

If you want to know where I was
Then I wasn't,
And I'm not that vain as to try and remember

But I know you'll try and remind me
But that's maybe why I love you.
I think, I'm never really certain.

Because every day I change a little bit more
Into this thing that I'm becoming with the passage of time.
Well that's not fair.

I saw some wrinkles on my face today,
but they're right around my mouth,
and they show the world all the smiles I've had.

I blame you for that.
And for some tears.
But the tears were more my fault.

Or anyway that's what I was taught.
Everything good comes from somewhere else.
And I'm the root of all evil.

Maybe that's why I try so hard,
and I'm so earnest.
I want to prove to somebody that I'm worth something.

And inside somewhere
Deep in there
I feel a little bit of nothing

But not when I look at your face.
And not when we're together
In the same room

I like it there.
In whatever room your in.
Does that count for something?

Heat Death

Someone worked it out once,
That if the Universe keeps going,
And entropy works like we think,
Then the way it all ends is rather mild,

And space becomes gentle,
Like tepid water in a kitchen sink.

All because the universe won't stop growing.
And who is to blame for that?

It was the same here,
And now everything has grown so much,

I can feel the cool grease on my hands.
And I want the drain plug to pull out.

In Quiet Morning

I sit in the quiet of the morning,
And the breeze rustles
Through the undergrowth.
I sit in the quiet of the morning,
And I hear the tinkling of glass and ice.

Of ice and glass,
and glass and ice,
and ice and glass.
I sit in the quiet of the morning.

You might say I'm standing in my stirrups,
Feeling the horse revolve beneath me,
Feeling the patrols move past me,
Slowly in the darkness, I sit.

A lone flag rustles in the darkened breeze,
And reflections of parked, dark windows
Sparkle in the early light.

They are lonely,
Lit against the stars,

Fighting against the cold,
Holding, close against the night,

Words flow forth,
Strung together,

By oxygen and carbon,
and all the molecules,

And I sit, I sit,
in quiet mourning,

your the worst.

You are the worst human,
I'm certain that no one
ever wants to touch

Your genitals are the worst,
I'm getting sick, very sick,
just thinking about the idea,

Of them, I'm not sure,
If i can bide my time,
until your dead.

Then, I'll dance and sing,
and yell and scream
out loud, and joy shall,

Breath into my lungs,
Pump blood in my veins,
and set me down again.

Thoughts Bouncing Off Your Ceiling Fan

I let you pretend,
That it meant something,
When we fell asleep,
Lying side by side.

But really I was closed in,
If I woke you up,
On my way out,
We would have had to talk,

About it.

But if I let you pretend,
Then maybe in the morning,
We'll both be as ashamed as I am,
And neither of us will have to talk.

We'll both pretend,
Nothing happened,
And maybe we can forget,
That's what I'm hoping for.

Conversation

I'm not going to listen.

I wish I had never come off as,

That guy who listens.

When we're talking,

I drift in and out.

Even when I'm talking.

Mostly, I have this to say.

I would be happier,

So Much happier,

If we didn't have to pretend,

Like we cared about each other.

That would be great.

But for now,

I'm going to finish my drink.

And leave you forever.

Fucking Feminists

She said she wasn't a feminist,

But that was her lie.

When I asked her,

As I pulled the chair out for her,

If she liked to be on top,

She replied of course,

Doesn't everybody?

And she sat down.

I told her yes,

But that was my lie,

Because sometimes,

Even during coitus,

People get lazy,

and lose sight of their goals.

Later she let me be on top,

And I hated her for it.