Regarding the Need

There is a disconnect.  And in one instance the noise, ambient and embracing, music playing, friends and community.  Then the exegeses, which although that word doesn't mean "exit," probably should, is abrupt, but not discontinuous.  And marble can feel warm in the right light, and the night air in the summer is something to be warned about.  It leads to flights.  Leaving is a possibility.  You can do anything, reading rainbow.  There are no rainbows at night.

It doesn't matter that you aren't familiar with Bede's parable.  If you are, you I'm sure, have been unsuccessful in life, spending your time on such antiquated and frivolous things.  But central issue there is that life, outside the great hall is unknown, and from where did that Bat, or bird, or nightingale come from, and where did it go.  In one end, and out the other.  It's true that sometimes the night is filled with fear and shaded mystery.  That someone who doesn't believe in ghosts can see a spectre blah blah blah it's a trash bag, no doubt.  But stabbing dude guys with something drug stuff.  Points of no return.  It's mostly just quiet streets, and the occasional Chevy Suburban driven by the lone thrity-six year old mother of two.  She doesn't want to kill you, but she has to; to protect her children. 

And have you ever thought about how the human head occupies a unique space, or how you almost never see a president laying down.  Five feet to six feet.  Most of the world, that's where heads are, just barely off the ground.  They don't even bob as much as video games that made me sick with nausea at twelve would suggest they do.  They just float.  A sea of heads.  And it would look like some sort of weakness, the president, en repose.

Boys Band

Ok, so I like musicals. 

No not those musicals.  The musicals I like.  I'm not having a conversation.  I like some specific things. 
This isn't a give and take.

No, I don't want to hear about your favorite books.

You're right, I'm being a jerk.
Sorry.
I'm just frustrated.

I still don't really want to take your suggestions though.
I'm not there yet.

How could any pool table hope to compete with a gold trombone. 

Titles

This is a poem called, "I don't like you very much, at all."
And it's a poem because I'm not saying it.
I could be saying it.
And everyday, I get closer to saying it.

At this point in the poem,
I could write your name.
But in truth, this poem isn't directed at a specific person right now.
Write, now: ______________ (Their name.)

But I've felt this way before,
And I'll feel that way again.
So,
Be prepared.

-D