Sarah Jane is a godless goddess heathen
her very liberal views are magnetically charged
crazies throw bibles at her for no reason
she appears to have a brain that’s enlarged.
She’s turning something like thirty-three
or at least she kind of thinks she is
or turning something like Japanese you see
she is all hers but wants to be his.
She loves to accomplish nothing perfectly
and feels wonderful about it every time
she does it continuously and discretely
her outsides are hers but her insides mine.
She wants to be loved in her wraparound jumpsuit
wearing white cotton panties against her will
bloated purple dead on a toilet and destitute
waking up in a pool of her own vomit spill.
She’s into Knitting hella metal cuffs
and can turn any song into an ode to her cat
with one semester down she’s strutting her stuffs
only a few left to go and that’s where it’s at.
Evil sickness ravages her for four weeks away
she aces grueling exams and then dances about it
celebrates with bad movie night in a perfect way
she makes time to party yet will never quit.
She makes pots of dark black coffee two at a time
ignoring the twitch that comes with each one
finally feeling like she’s coming into her prime
life is great but it takes two to have fun.
She listens to Inter Arma over and over again
staying up all night reading is her great joy
she sings to her cats in the morning now and then
her higher level of consciousness is a great ploy.
Her eyes light up when she sees equations about time
formulas and theories excite her to no end
she likes it loud and hard and numbers that are prime
the smart are never easy to defriend or offend.
Brutal death metal creates for her a happiness
she looks at her problems as a source of entertainment
trepanation deliberately accelerates her braininess
I’d volunteer to be her next mad self experiment.