The only objective that cowers in my ripped pocket is
Altering your mind—
Every second of the day I wish that you were clever enough to
Reach out to the tendrils of truth
For it’s not what you think,
But that’s too impractical.

Every single thing I do has a reason, every drop of bliss.
When you tell me about it,
I’m glad you’re joyous,
But it’s so bitter at the same time.

I wish that I could understand
Your mind capabilities just a bit more.

Just how much can you understand?

What are your limits?
For when I hear you going on and on and on
About the same thing I am indifferent to,
I am no longer indifferent, but regretful.

I am sorry to have taken so many for granted
But I don’t want to lose you.
And there’s no problem with that—
Except that the hole in my pocket
Was still there.