dear girlfriend, life is bitter
but i've decided that i'll stay
doing it over, the right way
without simulated drowning
every time you say something dumb
rubbing your index finger over your thumb
in a dramatic orchestration with the world's smallest violin
about all the things that boil down to the old out and in
yes i'll take the day off to bring flowers to your gold fish's grave
yes i'll try and find a reason for a daily morning shave
yes i'll change in every way, without you knowing that actually i won't
use you for the warmth and weakness
for the fighting and the stress
which i'll now confess
to enjoying more than a perfect compromise
which happens to be death in a half-ass disguise
arrested to a somber fate like a white-trash tv dinner
fast-forwarding through diets, as you get thinner, fatter, thinner
until you weigh less than a pound
a sorry left-over snack for an aging maggot in the ground