'Twas three nights after Christmas, and I sat at Rich O's.
People asked me, "Where's HatGirl?"
because nobody knows.
So I told them, "She's ill,"
and they said, "Take a pill!
and get better soon,
because we're sick of seeing Dave being so fucking sad all the time."

Staring glaring,
Thoughts tearing,
Emotions flaring,
Soul baring.

One time, two times, three times, four times.

I wonder if there will be any more times.

Because that would be cool.

What was I thinking?
To succumb to cute and nice?
That is not like me.

That eternity,

was over in an instant.

That single instant,

seemed to drag on forever.

I longed for what I dreaded.

This was expected.
I have been waiting for it,
Anticipating.
This is what I have yearned for.
Just a little distraction.

Your heat warms the room.
And yet you're not self-conscious.
You smile, the world stops
To contemplate your beauty.
I don't know how you stand it.

Was Geisel a great writer?
Perhaps, in his own way.
But all his subjects ever did,
was sing and dance and play.

I doubt that he'd have done as well
with more realistic themes.
Like that cat being hit by a car,
or getting raped up the ass by one of those damn brats.