on why i am not reading the scarlet letter

your perception of my brilliance falls short.
the look you gave me that time when you sighed
destroyed my ability to think on my own,
and your eyes move at a million miles and hour
and one day i will run away just to see what it's like.
so in my dreams i set fire to the house that i live in.
so what?
so i guess that means something.
yeah, that maybe i am a lazy, half-assed rebel
or it's just that i don't know how to be
your perception of my brilliance,
the smile on that stupid crest ad,
all white and smart and a little bit fake
but just enough to make everyone love me
(that's a lie, everyone does love me.
i'm the last one to get on that train.)
or hug me
(but that's a lie too, because if i need one,
you'll give it.)
but i can't quite subscribe to the notion
that love is as deep as an ocean,
though of course it tastes just as gross
when you drink it through a hose.
where was i?
purple prose.
this is like trying to vent myself in a million directions
losing control or perhaps this perception
that i actually have to care about stuff
like you do
or i did
well, do, just not the right things.
and that is why i am not doing school work.