shane is the bane of my existence

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...)