To my hair (A man mourns his loss)

In a fortnight's time it will be September
In a fortnight's time it would have been five years
But I would not take it any further nor grow my hair an inch longer
Thus drunk on vanity which flames my slighted anger
One cold Sunday evening I found myself at the local barber's
To once and for all cut my hair short and be rid of it forever.

There used to be a time when we got along just fine
I have to do little and friends' words were still kind
But Time grew envious of us and nothing I do would appease it
No amount of Dove would suffice nor would it be happy with just Rejoice
When lice made three's a crowd that was the last strand
The problem laid not in the foam, no matter how dear the brand.

But men's desperation outlasts our vanity
And their memory impishly feeds our injuries
I, a mortal recalls helplessly only when it was good
To drown out the insults when my hair had her own mood
All I have now is photos from the times bygone
When my long hair completes me like a crown adorned.

Alas, Time, the cruel joker is also the kindly healer
In awhile my hair grows longer while I weep a little softer
And I will be moved to grow my hair differently and style it a different colour
When we need no more than the daily dove and a little water
Until Time, again on a whim decrees it so
That my new hair grows obstinate and I, weary of it.

Sung hoarse

Come here little sister and keep me company
Scoot a little nearer, sit right next to me
It's ten to twelve and I'm inside on my own
I've boarded up the door before sitting here alone
But now that you've found a way in and then you found me
Do stay awhile and sing to me like a child.

Do you fear the night and chase it like a dog?
Do you kneel before the bright, the artificial sunlight?
I tell you now as a friend, fear not what's unseen
For all you have to fear is all that have been
I tell you now out of love, love not that which is livid
For all you have to fear is fear itself and those that come from it.

You have ceased your lullaby, I didn't realise that
Now restless like a church hooker you will soon take leave
Alas, even the sweetest voice way be sung hoarse
Even the daintiest of whores will soon start acting coarse
When it gets bright I'll force myself to sleep
Then you may leave, for you have another appointment to keep.

Sidewalk

I'm eating on the sidewalk
I eat on the sidewalk cause I need to smoke
I'm eating on the sidewalk alone
I eat on the sidewalk alone cause I can't stand the conversation
I'm eating on the sidewalk with a cat
I eat on the sidewalk because people can't compare to a domesticated pet.