It’s really a shame
That you see the world in a duotone,
That the rods and cones that allow you to capture rainbows
Are virtually obsolete.
A few nights ago
You questioned my morality,
Thinking that I’m not deserving
Of a little compensation for my pain and suffering,
Thinking that I’m unethical
For needing that boost
When your scruples are clearly corporate and skewed.
I’ve seen you as a lothario and a hermit,
Misanthropic to the core
Yet willing to use people to further your own success,
Including stealing their identities
And making nice with some Roswell alien headed hag
Just to satisfy your need for a warm pussy.
Don’t take the moral high ground with me,
Because you were never around
To witness me decompensate at City Hall
Or my near death experience
On the subway tracks.
I’ve tried my best to sympathize
With your episodes of panic and anxiety,
Yet you can’t see past the debilitating flashbacks
I experience every day.
You don’t have the ability
To transcend my subconscious
And muddle past the vivid imagery
Of metal, concrete, paint, rodents, electricity, and lights.
You claim to have an astronomical IQ,
Yet you don’t have enough sense to realize
That having wheels for feet
Is not the only form of disability,
That because I’m not an agoraphobic pussy like you,
I don’t deserve that boost
Back into shape.

So now you’ve abandoned our friendship,
Citing that we’re too different
Laying on this crap
That we’ve outgrown each other.
I think that you couldn’t handle
Being called out on all of your bullshit.
You’d think that I,
The only person who consistently stood by you,
Would receive more gratitude.
But no.
You’d rather sink into your pathetic little hole
Than even bother with handling the truth.
I know how the truth and you make really strange bedfellows.
Hell, your name is further proof of your dishonesty,
What with a last name that was really your middle name
Along with adding three I’s
When damn near everybody who knows you
Knows that there is no senior or junior.
Oh yeah,
Let’s not forget about that Chrysler Sebring Convertible,
A car you use as a status symbol and never actually bought at a dealership.
Unless you plan on picking up chicks at a nursing home,
You’re impressing absolutely nobody,
Especially in those MySpace photos.
And finally,
And I know this will sting the most,
You do not have what it takes to be a professional gambler.
You may have the skill,
But you don’t have the personality or the composure for the game.
Hell, when was the last time you actually went to a casino
That wasn’t online?

All in all,
You’re just another moment in time
That had its good points,
But turned sour in the end when you lost your balls
And thought everybody around you was evil.
You would color me naïve,
Simply because I can see the good in people.
I ask of you to look at yourself,
And then look at me,
And then see who is miserable
As a result of you treating the end of our friendship
As a break-up.
I guarantee you
That you haven’t left a serious dent in my social life,
And I have the crowd standing in front of me
To thank for that.
I hope for your sake,
You can actually find people
Who will eat your bullshit with a spoon,
People who are just as gutless
And just as sheltered
And just as much of a pathetic loser as you are.
I’m no slave to your judgments.
I’m no slave to your insecurities.
I’m no slave to your egocentric thought processes.
You can just start crying to your dominatrix from now on,
And I hope the next time she beats you down
That she hits your head hard enough
To make you see the world
Through the eyes of somebody
Who knows what he’s talking about,
And then I’ll really get that boost.

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