A Poem

That last post was a bit random...but I felt it was necessary.

I like Leila. Despite her odd taste in music.

We are sitting in the library, about to commit suicide. So I thought I would write a poem about our exploits.

Getting It On With James B. Duke

There is a library named James B. Duke,
We have become rather intimate a time or two.
It has a knack of sucking the life,
out of all that enter it during the day or the night.
We sit here for hours not getting enough done,
then feeling as if we've never had a bit of fun.
There are some strange characters that wander its halls,
they provide entertainment, the ones that have balls.
I sit and I stare into the abyss,
of what feels like a huge pit of nothingness.
Katie sits across from me in her Tri-Delta shirt,
and Leila is next to me about ready to burst.
Finally our time is coming to an end,
but I know this will not be the last time with my dear friend.
So this poem that I'm writing is dedicated to Jim,
we would all have much fuller lives if it wasn't for him.