a lil poem i wrote a couple of years ago

this may be irrelevant,
my blueberry elephant,
but i can be rather eloquent
when i speak of the truth,
in this telephone booth.
im hanging like a bloody loose tooth,
waiting for the reason for my existence.
please, listen to my persistence
in this first (but not final) instance:
"baby, my love for you is hardcore.
if you asked, i would go from rich to poor.
i love you so much, youre all i live for."
why does this sound so clinical?
it should be love's existential pinnacle
but your lack of response makes me cynical.
you should tell me im your best lady
instead your silence does nothing but deflate me.
answer me, please, i think im going crazy.
wait, this is not an obsession
merely a tiny, little confession.
all i ask is to not mistake my intention
to make a simple telephonic connection.

[for all you smart asses out there
yes i did rip off the first few lines from buck 65
but dammit he inspired this crap
he should be flattered]