i have the finest pillowcase known to mankind
i stole it from my baybee
she don't like to be called baybee

but im ol schoole

i call my honey baybee

it's a reflex

and if it's a mysogynistic echo
so be it
it's my pattern of thoughti's part of me
and if she doesn't wants to be my baybee
ok
she is free to choose udders
udder milkers
udder lovers
but that wood make me sad

so my fine pillowcase is an item of her wardrobe
i've since returned my keys
but i wanted a piece of history
when i was semi dumped
i want to hang on
why wood'nt eye?

i love to hang with her

so i'll be patient
and sleep with her laundry as my pillowcase
her iconic laundry
possibly her trademark tee-shirt
in the anarchist circles she travels
i put my face on her laundry and smile
as i drift off
and it's a tiny bit better than sleeping alone
and a whole lot sadder than i've bean in a while
and another retarded chapter
in my retarded love life