sonnet 19.4.13.

My lover knows hes rated nice as nought
I want to leave him numbness nurse of hurt
I feel the guilt too much I shouldve fought
The etiquette of quiet its best to blurt
I wait on ambiguity drama wrought
Of boredom but this time to stay alert
In shoving match to cuss the way I ought
I wish he were a blowhard never curt
I cringe his crinkled calves his clownish waves
I scrounge around I find a fault that fits
At superficial level call it quits
I catch him picking nose his nostrils caves
If nice to all you wind up anyone
Hes various muted souls and stilted fun
Chorus anyone enigiemand personne