| Ode To Samantha Samantha, my dear, You are my one true love. You remind me of dew on a blade of grass during the middle of a rainstorm. You make me feel as if I were five feet tall. Your smile reminds me of a mouth with teeth in it. I cannot get enough of you -- even though there is definitely enough of you for me to get. My heart feels something that can’t be denied. I think it's gas. You make me feel so special. I love you, Samantha, But do you love me? You remind me of a woman. Samantha, When I look at you, I become nauseous - I mean nervous! Your eyes are like two round objects that can be found in the eye sockets of a human being. Your breath is like a lethal gas bomb that could kill me in my sleep. When I think of you, Samantha, I think of a beautiful woman With great personality, but, then I am brought back to reality. You are too beautiful for me. I hope you love me, Samantha, For you know that I love you. When you are around, My heart beats faster, and faster, and faster, and faster. But then I realize that it's only you and not some big, horrible, ugly monster with big fangs. Then I am relieved. Somewhat. Your thighs are like bones with layers and layers, and layers, and layers of skin surrounding them. Your nose is like a protruding piece of cartilage covered with skin and containing enough hair to strangle a person to death. Your neck is like, well, actually, I have no idea what your neck is like, since I can't even find it! Your chin is like a round, flabby hunk of skin located beneath your mouth. And so is the other one, and the other one, and the other one. When I see you, Samantha, I want to run and hide, But I don't, because I love you, and because you are loaded with money and you will die soon, anyway. So I say to you, Samantha, "You're special -- you're not like the other girls!" |
| Abandoned abandoned in a random act of apathetic, lack of feeling, change of heart, and unappealing slap of truth and all-revealing false excuses, never calls, bullshit lies, and lack of balls to say the truth that times have changed and love is lost, and all we’ve shared is tossed away like shattered glass in picture frames and, though you may not feel the same, I’m still in love with you… |
| Cold “So?” I say, unsympathetically. “Who cares if your mother died?” The corned beef on the table smells like pie. An angry look, a bitter stare. I hate the saffron daisies on her shirt. I take the silver-bladed kitchen knife and drive it deep into the meat. I offer her a slice. “I hate the taste of corned beef,” is her reply. “Is that why you’re so frigid?” I feel the sting of fingers on my face, and her hand retracting in an instant. We share a look of bitter angst, of mutual disgust. I bite into a greasy slice and find myself erect. The hotness of my cheek where she just slapped, and the hotness of the greasy beef contradict the coldness of my tone. She tells me to go fuck myself and I find the irony amusing. I never liked her mother. |
| Frustrated Full of frustration, anger, and tears, I drown all my burdens in my bottle of beer. I sit at the bar and look all around me, I’ve been hiding from Sorrow, but I fear that she’s found me. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to go home, I just want to be where I’m not so alone. I’ve got my friends and my family, but they’re not quite enough I want someone to hold me when the going gets rough. I want someone to kiss, someone to touch, It’s physical contact I’m craving so much. I want a partner, a lover, I want my soul mate, I’m at my sexual peak, but I can’t get a date! I’m horny as hell, but I’m stuck using my hands, I can’t even find any one-night stands! Maybe it’s hormones, but maybe it’s more, Maybe I just don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m just not good with women, I guess I’m too shy, My hairline’s receding, I’m a balding white guy. I can’t get a date, my ego’s deflated, I think the concept of “bachelor” is way overrated. My prospects of pleasure seem increasingly bleak, I feel unattractive, ugly, and weak. I don’t have the looks, I don’t have the money, My number one hope is that chicks think I’m funny. But laughter and love are too often apart, As if my corny jokes could win a girl’s heart! But, what girls want from a guy is good looks and a car, Not some insecure sucker who sits alone at the bar. So, I look all around me at these girls and their men, I see them all happy, paired up, and then, Full of frustration, anguish, and tears, I drown all my sorrow in my bottles of beer. |