he always tries to explain himself during the
worst of times. he's one of those "wait until
the commercial is over and the movie is back on
and then i will talk" type of guys. and i roll my
eyes but i bite my tongue because my mommy taught me
to be nice. be nice. also, he likes to stand too
close when i'm feeling the need for Free and his
invasion of my space drives nails into every single
part of my body and i feel like one more second of this,
and
i will just start ripping apart. i would rip him
apart but i have to be nice. be nice. my mommy says so.

so
i listen to him ramble on and on about why he is who he
is and you can fill in the blanks from there, because
truly, i have NO idea what he says. i only know that
i can feel his breath and his body becomes this wall
and i have to stand on my tippytoes to see behind him,
even, below him and my head starts closing in and i feel
like if i don't escape soon, i will just explode all
over him which would serve him right. ahem. but my mommy
says be nice. be nice.
so ok. i'm being nice.

he has nice eyes. and he smiles sometimes.

anyway,
he asks dumb questions while i watch his mouth move, and i'm
thinking of a hundred and one different ways i could
kill him before X-files comes on. he doesn't get it that the
re-runs are what i live for.
and all of a sudden he is laughing about something he said
so i am polite and i join in all the while wishing that his
head would fall off. or atleast, cave in.

but then he stops laughing and gets that "im so serious and
am about to say something that could change your life" kind of
look and i'm thinking oh god, not again. we go through this
shit nearly every day. and it begins and ends the exact same
way.
he fights with words as i fight for sleep. come on, come on
and rescue me but don't ya know, he's the type of impolite
bastard that would wake me up

Just because i fell asleep while
he was spilling his gut because honestly, heart is not where he's
coming from. he's feeding me bullshit because he thinks
he's don juan. and it's recycled at that! but my mommy always
told me
if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything
at all, so i'm holding my breath and i'm biting my tongue
and i'm trying not to picture my hands around his throat.

i am T R Y I N G to be nice
because my mommy says so.

12/03/2003

Author's Note: this is more of a rant than a poem and the dude it's about has already been fed to the chickens. this was a blast to write though even though it's not very good. oh well. who knew i'd get such inspiration from a toad :)

Posted on 12/03/2003
Copyright © 2024 Olivia Weinkein