Bury me, oh counterweights of Cupid!
Take this heart from my chest
And burn its ache away.
I crave not the lust of adolescence,
But the physical pleasure of adulthood.

Yes spurting confusion is a symptom
Of the disease that plagues my fingers
And toes and makes me wild within.
If I wail my distaste, would the FDA
Hear my plea and stir up the medicine I need?

So God intended suffrage in place of sleep.
Can I protest? Or are petitions not allowed?
Sorry, officer. Thought this was public property.
This house has never been off-limits before,
At least that is what John Steinbeck says.

Mayor Ordin! The town is aflame!
I blame the soldiers. The ones with guns
And battering rams. Oh how they pound away
At my sanity! I can take their siege no longer.
To the unwilling heavens: I bow in supplication.

Ye gods of above and beyond!
Save me from this interminable hatred of self!
This loathing is tearing me from reality.
Oh Cupid! Why have you forsaken me?
Please return my youthful splendor.