Everywhere I look I see you and your website.
Look! It's even there when I close my eyes.
What in God's name did you do to me?
"I gave you eye cancer that was shaped like a tiny UCSF, so now it's all you see as you look out on the world."
You must be an evil witch goddess.
That's it! That's what you are.
Fully knowing the power of your poisonous kiss
to trap a weak soul like mine,
like a venus flytrap out of sheer green evil
eats a hapless fly.
"It's true that I have taken several courses on sheer green evil, but I'm still a few credits shy of my evil witch goddess degree."
Then you had the nerve to not call me.
Just leave me to die in the Sahara of love wasted.
Love that you, evil goddess, gave me
like syphilis on my heart.
You must not understand how it works, my love.
That ERAS is a window into my professional soul.
"The Sahara is actually a lot less arid than you might imagine. As for your mycotic aneurysm, I saw you kissin on a bunch of chicks at the bar before my sweet virgin ass came along."
Therefore, I did what I had to.
I brought you a sacrifice, a perfect gift.
My acne-ridden ass to be treated -- my comedones.
And did you appreciate it? Appreciate its beauty,
its exquisite perfection? No you did not.
What did you do? You called me a dirty flasher...
...and called the police!
"This was a big misunderstanding! While you were showing your gorgeous zitted rump off, there was a filthy guy directly behind you in my line of sight who kept showing me his balls. I was calling him a dirty flasher, not you, pookiebear"
Shortly thereafter, the men in white came.
They came with their dogs, pepper spray and cold leg irons
and put me here in this kingdom of nightmares.
"I would hardly call the Sahara a kingdom of nightmares. Grow up. As for your cold dog irons, and peppered leg spray, let me just say that not all of us are as fortunate as you to spend a day at the health spa getting fancy new age pampering."
I am concerned, Snookums.
I do not think they understanding our perfect love.
They think they are smart,
as they force upon me their pills like clockwork,
not knowing that I hide them under the mattress.
Who's crazy now? Ha ha.
"I too, am concerned. I thought you were a prize man, one who would stand by me to the bitter end (after making sweet passionate love to me on the night of our first meeting). Now you're off traipsing around the Sahara writing sonnets, cussing at cacti, and making a general ass of yourself. Get a grip, you ass-zitted hunk, you! Like the glistening dove I set free last summer, if you really love me, you will come back to me."
I have to keep my mind clear.
Clear so I can smile for their psychiatric board.
Clear so they will let me out.
"I made some calls, and came up with a few things: 1) The psychiatric board has never heard of you, 2) Incidentally, the psychiatric board doesn't like it when you smile at them; they take it as a sign of aggression, 3) On hearing of your tale, the psychiatric board weighed in to say that psychedelic mushrooms, though fun, will make you think you're in an asylum in the Sahara when you're really in your parent's basement huddled in a corner, intermittently licking the wallpaper and high-fiving your imaginary friend Steve. Oh, tell Steve I said hi. That dude throws the best parties."
So I can be reunited with you, UCSF.
And make our love perfect again.
"I doubt our love will ever be perfect again, but I am willing to cobble together anything resembling a relationship with you. I just don't want you to play games with my heart any longer. Also, I want you to get a megadose of pen G for your syphilis ASAP. Let's be honest, you make love like a stallion, and I need me some of that, but I'm not willing to rot out my aorta for it."
Love you,
Your lil' snookiepookiewookie (UCSF)