Draft 6

Truthfully I don't want you to be bored
By all my pious pipings
Because honestly they're a chore
And I'm drunk when I'm typing
Words to the world words to the wise
With a wink and a sigh and torture
That I put the reader in because you don't deserve
The happiness of reading a poem
That I've put my blood in when you can't even feel
My pain and love and fervor

The truth is we're all Jesus Christ
And we're all crucified
And the truth is it don't even rhyme
And I didn't even write it

I knew a boy who cut his heart
Because a girl won't listen
And he wrote her songs on gilded pages
That flipped but never glistened
He packs bags now at groceries
And covers songs on you tube
I don't even have anything to say
I don't even have a clue

I thought him foolish for what he did
I never understood it
But now I pain over a girl
I didn't paint and so I rue it
It's funny fern was on my mind
When I read that furled up story
But Toomer's a tumour that grows and grows
And now I've turned a boring
Contemplator of thoughts dark and daring
That revolve around a girl
Who is and isn't ever there
And now I feel a pearl
In my throat like an oyster
Thus I sing this storied story
So fuck me and fuck you all
I'm done I'm out
I hope you're happy