Interview for a potential boyfriend

So hey there!
How're you?
Can I ask you a few questions?
I already have I suppose..
let's start
Do you like girls?
you wouldn't be here if you didn't
do ya?
ya do?
Would you date a girl whose hands'll shake?
So she can't use chopsticks?
You don't eat sushi?
Do you love your mother?
Like, really?
Do you hate her?
Do you know what an electra complex is?
Do you have any weird fears? 
Choking on your tongue?
I do.
Did I stutter?
Did I?
I, St-st-stammer when I'm nervous. Sorry.
Oh, Well.
How old were you when you stopped using a nightlight?
Do you have a favorite stuffed animal?
A giraffe named Giraffey?
Or a seal called Sally?
Would you date me if I told you I was a behavioral addict?
Or that I maaayyy be bipolar 2?
 Would you believe that when I was manic I ate muffins for a week?
Or when I'm low I only eat jalapenos?
But would you be put off I told you I didnt eat for three years?
and that I'm afraid of...

Just asking..
No reason..
ha.. ha..
Would you mind if I sang out of key?
At weird moments?
For no reason?
Or that since I'm an audiophilic audiophile I WILL say the name and band of EVERY song on the radio?
You do too?
Well. Great!
What's your favorite juice?
What makes you hate someone?
Have you ever tried to kill yourself?
Too personal.
*clears throat*
Do you like dogs?
Whats your mothers Maiden name?
Can you stand me longer than six months?


Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



In honor of _____. I left it blank 'cause I'll need it next year
'Bile Rising in the stomachs of those who were convinced there would be justice.
flames rising from the sparks we thought were extinguished in 1992.
Every generation experiencing a new reason to revolt.
Rage is incandescent
Pulsing. Palpitating. Heaving
shallow breaths of those with kindling. 
With gasoline
With gunpowder
Of those who thought there would be justice.
The sonic boom of triggers 
audible bloodlust
Tongues spitting 
Fingers pulling
Eyes weeping
Nations that believed there would be justice
Cursing God for the verdicts
Of then
And now
But baby, even God is pissed.
As are the twenty something revolutionaries
Roaming streets
Behind a computer 
Teenaged twitterings
Of those demanding justice.
For the red Rorschach blot left on concrete.

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