Shane, you are the bane of my existence
There is no resistance
The hash and
the mash to
my potato
Your hair more twisted than fettuccini alfredo
Sexcapades more legend than Bagger Vance
Here's what I know:
You're looking out, on the move, on the go
snorting the blow
Screen time kept to a minimum
Isn't there more than that?
An empty house with a guarded gate
Passive-aggressive check-mate
When you're saying the F word on The L word
letting out the rage from the page
that Ilene Chaiken creates
Oh, and those clothes
wearing those pants down so low
ass crack in the back
what's there left to show?
Then so quick to disrobe
Don't worry - I don't think you're a ho
Girls about town
ready for you to hire and fire
spin them for one night
your lover line-up
rotating like the spokes on the village bicycle's tire
"Relationship"
is just a term
a word
a noise
you'd rather not hear
intimacy, vulnerability, responsibility, culpability:
are those the demons under your bed
an intangible yet real sort of fear?
Come on, I'll buy you a beer.
You're a tough bird, a vulnerable chick
blocking the cock
in favor of pussy
no need for dick, no need for prick
Oh, Shane
(skinny as stick)
never stopping to think
about last night's
random
spontaneous
spectacular
adventurous
incidental
accidental
casual
fuck
unless...
you've got a stalker named Lacey
eyeing you
like you're a duck
and she's on the hunt
Then there's
the love you shared, almost shared, tried to share
with Sherry
but nary
a very
true "I love you"
rang true between you too
too much like cheap white glue
stuck on her for a while
only to peel off, fall apart, fade away
like erasable magic marker on tile
mark it off on your list
of successes and failures
leaving you rest assured
a check checked off, in the mail
that relation/ship has sailed
It's a harmless destructive kind of fun
talking of Shane McCutcheon
because...
Shane, you are the bane of my existence
the lonely kind of happiness
you only experience during Christmas
You are:
The everything to my every day
a headache, pain, strain, that won't go away
like the day after a cold goes away
traces remain
like the sun interrupting the rain
the stripes stripped off my candy cane
the guilty pleasure, pleasureful shame
being a fan
of that cat they call Shane
because you are my bane
everyone's bane
especially when you prevent innocent boys and girls
from being masters of their domain
Once again
Shane
you are the bane of my existence
upon no one's insistence
fighting the powers that be
can't free me
it's my doing
I am my own worst enemy
inciting the riot
accessory to my own ruin
Fuck it
Enough with this shit
That's it
Shane,
as long as you're beast
I'll be tit
(whoever wrote this you are brilliant...)
