what is it with me and addictive personalities?
allergic, semi-vegan, mostly substance-free me
drawn to potheads and drunks like breath into lungs
smokelaced and lingering between the pink folds
could it be that i'm jealous of such constant devotion?
every day sucking in, every day blowing out
it's gross and disgusting and bad for your health
yet still you pay money, and i give it up free
so perhaps, deep inside, where i don't want to look
something likes that stability which transcends emotion
and i just want somebody addicted to me
you'd come to me for comfort or fun
and you'd truly believe that i make you look cool
you'd drown yourself in me like i was a bottomless pool
leading peacefully down
i would have your complete concentration
your list of priorities narrowed to one
you wouldn't dream of leaving me every few hours
nicotine pulling your hand out the door
when it should be inside me, reaching for more
i'd be the fire of blue flame coursing up your right arm vein
romanticized, just like i saw on tv
you'd steal for me, lie for me, kill for me, die for me
hey wait a second here, this is getting scary.
and i don't think i'd really want that at all
cuz you can feed your addictions in the parking lot at the mall
but obsession is a sickness passed off as love
like oil puddle rainbows masquerading as sky
so why do i find myself in passionate flings
with folks whose brilliantass minds can't remember a thing?
revolutionaries fighting for the rights of the oppressed
speaking with power and a strength that overwhelms-
for women! for welfare! for loving who you will!
for giving half your paycheck to trent lott & jesse helms
and then asking them to please kill you
and anyone else who doesn't leave despite the smell
but now i'm just going off on my favorite pet peeve
and i still don't know the answer, but perhaps it's just as well
i just want you to see i can alter your mind
make you inhibition-free, make you hear things differently
like your name on a low track underneath all my songs
i want you to be someone who responds in kind
telling secrets so deep that they lodge in my spine
where they stay bundled up in the space between bones
even after we've parted and i'm left alone
so you will still hear me
like you've left the door open a crack and i'm down the hall singing
and i will still feel you in the arch of my back
every time i lean forward, or stand up, or dance
not a quick fix like some sort of powdered romance
sending desperate needles & pins up my thigh
but a constant vibration, ever-changing and pure
sending me spinning and leaping up
high

copyright Arjuna Greist 2003