Because now your pimple skin has pus;
Now you hobble, dusting spider webs, gawking
Cause this old delinquent gave you a cus
As you smell like some rank, dirty underwear
Especially after you insisted that I bleach
Skid marks off my aged tighty whitey spare.
Then you go off to the toilet seat
While I’m smoking a bone, and I’m thinking:
“You know, farting should be discreet”
And yes we’re both from northern towns,
And yes we both support the same political party—
When chance is like this, you place your bets down!
And so here you are, paying rent to live with me
But why are you there, smiling, drinking tea
While I’m here, pitcher full of martini.
Please go fix your school girl hair some other way
I, myself, would be hip with a mohawk or krisna tail,
But I couldn’t find either in a toupee.
Oops, there goes your humpback-whaling whine
Bleeding for affirmations of my eternal love,
While I, with my Playboys, am feeling just fine.
And now I’m sending you this Hallmark card
After they’ve gone and throwd me in jail,
And I’ll be happy here mooning the guard
And bullying the skinny kid with purple hair;
At which point I realize that you’re special to me.
I, a threat to all whose commissary I share,
Am here without you, shirtless in my dominion
Cause regardless of what anybody says of my hernia gut,
I can count on you for a numb-nun-special one.
All you readers forming disgustful theory
Better learn that love at its best persists on a shelf.
You are single, or celibate, or less normal than me
And cannot admit that every restless, questing soul
Abounds outside love’s confines. So criticize me
From the depths of your existential hole,
I know that the miracle of love is the act of not loving too.
It is a quest for stench and misery and marriage
So we ain’t alone when we take off our rancid shoe.