Thursday, December 8, 2011

High Maintenance

This is a poem dedicated to all the high maintenance men and women...

You are so high maintenance,
constantly testing my patience.
Crying all the time,
only to stop to whine.
You need so much,
you give so little.

You dress so fine,
never on time to any event.
Refuse to go camping,
because it's in a tent.
Drinking the Scotch,
that's only top notch.
To yack it all up,
in my semi-fancy get up.

Before I leave,
before I go.
You make me stop to talk,
something serious?
I think not,
it's merely to stroke your ego.
Because you are so weak,
you are so fake.
It seems to me,
all you do is take.

Do you give me anything?
Sure, your company...
Your body...
Your time...
All that is fine,
if you are a door knob.
You are really just an expensive slob.
You spend my money,
you take my time.
Not to give me a single dime.

I can't get better,
I can't win.
To leave you would be considered a sin?
You're the best thing that happened to me?
I'm more interested in the water on my knee.
You bore me,
you annoy me.
You're so vain,
it drives me insane.

Take your ego, take you clothes,
because it is me that knows.
Inside you are child,
with an future so mild.
You need someone to take care of your needs,
cover up your dirty deeds.

You don't have a job,
you don't have class.
You think you rate your sass.
Yea, you're gorgeous, yea you're the pass.
But're a pain in the ass.
You akin to a pimple,
but you think you're cute like a dimple.
Eventually you will pop,
your ass will flop.

Your skin will wrinkle,
your eyes will cease to twinkle.
You haven't a brain,
through education trained.
You are a money pit,
who really is a piece of shit.

I'm done with you.
I'm done with your canvass face.
Yes, you I can replace.
I am better than this,
I am too good for that.
Oh yea, you don't look sexy in my hat.

Give me my shirt,
the thought of you in it makes my head hurt.
Don't sit on my lap,
you're a financial trap.
I'm not going to feed your ego,
I'm not going to tell you that you are the best,
it is you that can't pass the test.
Because you are so fake,
you are so spineless.
Why did I ever call you "your highness"?

I'm going with a mate that is great,
they are fun, they are smart.
They know how to get things to start.
Their life, their job, their class, their sophistication,
I wonder if she wants to go on vacation?
We could go see the sites,
climb to new heights.
See the world,
float on the sea.
Now he, she is the one for me!

They aren't high maintenance,
being away is the only test to my patience.
Laughing all the time,
oh my gosh, the paid the dime!
She unlocked my door!
She laughed at my joke!
Scoffed at my tent,
drinks cheap whiskey at the bars,
will only camp under the stars.

Does get dressed up in the LBD,
only because it will be removed by me.
Throw it on the floor,
or hang it on the door.
It doesn't matter where,
because its a cheapy from Claire's.
She's had a rough day,
but to my dismay she doesn't ask for the world to stop.
She doesn't take my card to shop.

Those of high maintenance,
who test my patience.
Don't leave just yet,
for more words you get.
You waste my time,
you aren't worth my dime.
You smell, you lie, you begin to cry when you don't get your way,
tomorrow is my day.
You have become a bore,
with your lack of class,
Go to the door,
don't let it touch your nasty ass.

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