the media can kiss my ass

I don't want these packages
with their laces, bows, and ribbons.
I want a refund for your Mary-Kates
and coverages from Liza Gibbons.

Stop feeding off my fat
with your celluloid creams.
I don't want a raincheck
for the Bachelor of my dreams.

I'm sick of the way
I'm told I should feel.
Stop selling me your therapy
and sell me something real.

sitting by computer light

and i can't
even encourage
myself to
stay up for you anymore,
insomnia's not
worth a broken
heart

today i've slept
a thousand sleeps
in hopes of awaking to something
exciting
but i wake up
and nothing is new...
and the mundanity will kill us all