My new job is tiring.....we're a good buisiness, tell your friends! Product placement, haha. Its a good job none the less, not much to update on, we got new couches, thats cool, they're nice and clean too. I told you I'd update when I finished a poem, here it is, it still needs work, but here is the first draft...
Its called, "The evolution of my love poem"
It starts simple, so simple, even a child would want more mental depth
Roses are red, and violets are blue
Sugar is sweet and so are you
But that’s too short for me; I need to write an elaborate poem to prove my love to you because you’re so special to me. So I put beauty and more words in it.
Roses are red and violets are blue
My love is like the sun, always burning for you
When you smile, you send me daydreaming for miles
When I’m around you, the sky is always blue
But now I’m stuck, in a state where all I do is perpetually try to improve on the poem that poured from the point of my graphite pencil onto paper only to be erased before I even had a chance to appreciate their worth…leaving me…with smudged stationary
And I sit stationary trying to show my love for you by knitting you a shawl of words; I’m a poetic perfectionist.
What I believe are mediocre tapestries overflow the trashcan in crumpled heaps of ruined paper. My only fans are sensitive garbage women whose only apparent purpose is to look through my garbage and look for my literary pieces, which they flirtatiously call, “Dirty poetry.”
Now I’m driving myself insane trying to write something to show what I feel about you, which is quickly turning into anger.
Why isn’t it good enough? What’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with me? But there’s nothing wrong with me is there? No, there isn’t just my need to be intelligently intricate down to the last iota. Because I believe I owe you at least a few words from my meager mind.
I mean I could easily go to the store and buy a card, some roses, and chocolate. But what would that do?
It would only impress upon you a view of material worth
Some call it deep, some call it cheep, but I know the meaning of words
Why should I have to buy your affection?
My dignity is not on the shelf for you’re collection
I call you beautiful every chance I get
It’s always for the reasons so we will not forget
I try to stay affectionate, to keep your eyes gleaming
I must have said, “I love you,” so much in my poem it lost it’s meaning
Then I realize I’ve wasted about a rainforest of paper, protestors knock on my door, I’ve decided to stop trying to write love poems...but I wont tell the protestors...they plan to buy me a laptop with Microsoft word on it, so I can type instead of write
I use my words to open minds not hearts
I use my words to teach, to make people question
I use my words to make people appreciate how lucky they really are
Like loving someone…so I wont waste my words on love from now on
Because it’s true what they say, my faith without works is dead
I can say love as much as I want, doesn’t mean truth has been said
I’m pretty sure the emotion is there, even though I’ve never seen it
Remember the next time I say, “I love you,” I’ll mean it
Peace and grease, stay happy ya'll | 
