i say "i'm not doing this shit again,"
and you say, "what?"
you are so shcoked you can't believe it,
and you keep coming back again
and all your thoughts keeps
coming back again, round and round,
and why won't you stop thinking in circles
and i am still not sure how i feel about you,
but i hate to admit this, in a delayed
reaction way i think i love you,
and part of me, looking at you wishes i could fuck you
and as i sit across from you,
looking at a day's growth of
beard on your face
and the grace of green eyes,
pleading against fearborn religion
and all the sad things you say,
part of my wishes this was the
day you would push yourself
against me
and, stopping all argument just
love me, just press your mouth
to mine and love me