Megalomaniac

Your selfishness grates on my nerves
like nails on an old school chalkboard.
You're totally unaware of your
self-absorbed,
gluttonous horde--
a smorgasbord
of wasteful grunge.
Oh, how I'd love to take a sponge
and rain
on your parade--
your meaningless charade.
Then that new dew smell
can permeate your vain-ass brain.

Let the gravel drain
through a colander of humility...
then a confrontation of pain
will stimulate your ability
to finally regain
a sense of unity.

Absence

She's not around anymore.
And would she ever dare
to comfort and console
your sudden swings of flare?

Does she love the sound
of your lonely pout
or does she even notice
you're completely crushed with doubt?

And if she's such the perfect fit,
why am I putting up with your shit?
It's not that I mind dealing with you,
but can I get some love and acceptance, too?

Idolatry

Do you talk to me
when I am not around?
Is this just another way
for you to reach the ground
and feel the dirt between your toes
and have false comfort be your clothes
when you've got a cloak of skin
to console you in your time of sin?

I'm flattered, but the TRUTH may be,
there's nobody as AWESOME as HE;
and until you tattoo this on your brain,
your relations will be false and solely in vain.