don't worry, it's all about you... yes, you

Your own arrogance desires
You in all its emotive excesses.
You have feelings, dammit!
You love to display them on formica countertops
Over vending machine cappuccinos and all of
Your friends must cater to
Your “openness,” which is really just
You rebrushing the worn fabric of

Your narcissism.

You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you…
We are always talking about
Your hurts
Your needs
Your worries
Your hungers and
Your feelings are the centerpiece of every holiday.

Your needs are the infrastructure of

Our every plan and if

We don’t stuff
You bursting with attention
You cry, loudly and incessantly. And when
We dare to start anew

You cry foul! Abuse!
You call
Us names.
You cry, cry, cry and

You cry and

You cry and
No one understands how sensitive
You are.
Everyone is mean to
You. Poor, poor pitiful
You.

Master of
Your
Youniverse.

Amen.