shall i compare thee to a summer's eve?
something has corrupted--and alienated--me.
"girls like you are a dime-a-dozen,
and i got a nickel to spend."
i gotta get me outta this desert place.

breathing, eating, shitting,
dressing, attention seeking, etc.
there are more desirable addictions.
For instance:
hookers and blow--
more interesting than you,
but just as difficult to buy
with pocket lint
and an s-shaped paper-clip.

"butterfly in the sky;
i can get just as high."
with my tight little ass
planted in this fucking chair,
making underachieving in every aspect
of life a fucking performance art,

Bitch, who needs ya.