i was gone for 25 minutes and you killed me. 

my anger is worse than yours and i can prove it,
but it is nothing to brag about within a carport
on a Lake Worth, Texas terrible Tuesday.

i hate myself and i hate you, too
and i probably want to die so happy mid-week,
as the sprinklers surprise me
and the hispanic neighbors avoid me.

i reach neck-deep to grab your soul and a rose,
but then I get mad at sprinklers and my phone,
so what do I do?

lowercase heart attacks happen in the ghetto,
and loose hairs don't compare to love,
which is let loose like a lion, and I suck my teeth 
to ascertain the start of the sun that matches my heart.