XXXVIII.

Your short stories and anecdotes are keeping me more than at bay.

Now your mouth never closes and your mind won't open up.

"He is really something" was the last thing that I heard before you stranded me here.

Well. Beam me up. Take me out. But let's make it quick and painless.

I'm stuck in this room like Picasso's stuck in his frame.

Days go by and you're still talking, every single question is rhetorical.

You say this will hurt you more than it will me, but I doubt it.

You always mumble and ramble when you are lying.

That's how I know to get comfortable we'll be here a while.

Pre-fifties antennas can tune in to me better than you ever could.

I understand the need for you to let me down softly, but give me a break.

Talk about overstatement, since you've already talked about everything else.

I watch the clock because it's more honest than your eyes.

I'll never know why you always took me so literally about the things that I say.

Now I'm getting all that I deserve.

In the form of an exceptionally wordy parting of ways, you used way too many pronouns and it's lasted for days.

So can we just call it quits? I am up to my neck.
Maybe I'll see you again but hopefully not.