Messed Up, and Ready To Be Messed Around With

An envious ant for you my queen
Collecting thoughts to break my back
Lugging them in hefty crates to satisfy your desires
Climbing upscale landscapes
And perhaps it was a bad case of the ageist heat
That made me staple the corners of my mouth
To the brim of my eyelids, smiling blindly
Making you laugh for no reason
Have you ever salivated for conversation?
Specifically with one individual at that?
Commiserating in a crowded, noisy bar
For even if I understood only one word out of ten
They would still sound sweeter than that
Saccharine bullshit spewed by my jury of peers
You are a statue withered by six more years
Shifting directions with where the wind blows
You are crumbling into such a delicate mess
Could it be considered a mess,
If it is to be painted on a canvas tailored for you?
My dear, at twenty seven years of age
You seem like an untamed spirit, a beautiful delinquent
And I am stuck in the sap of a cynical sycamore
Waiting to be picked by a creature I find worth my time