Don’t Want a Boyfriend

(Wrote this, a few weeks ago, people usually tell me that write to let my negative emotions out, which I take for code for hey, you don’t really have the talent to be published, but just do this for fun.)

I don’t want a boyfriend,
I will tell you, he or you wouldn’t understand.
My psychological needs of a higher purpose,
that even I sometimes can’t describe.

I dream of sophisticated electric blue oceans,
crave for that sip of knowledge and talent,
its salty air of creativity, and morals of a better world,
and now, I want to sit by this beautiful work of art.
Will we put our differences aside, and offer your wisdom?

I need work, the demi-sexual kind of spiritual growth
that religious books don’t teach. A path that many refuse
to take because it is of hard work, but rewarding in an unworldly way of fame and gold.
We could be like a pack of real alpha wolves, howling our guidance to each other every night,
or maybe merging our broken, soft feathers,
and flesh and blood into something greater and bigger.

Please, don’t take this away.
Mold me into a porno graphic statue,
that needs the green trees to hide the ugliness I become,
it’s disgusting, and soon like the statue that faces acid rain and erosion,
I will decay into something much worse.

I don’t want a boyfriend,
I will tell you, he or you wouldn’t understand.
My psychological needs of a higher purpose,
that even I sometimes can’t describe.