I have a pretentious thought.

Man: I can hear the length of earshot.

Woman: I can see your eyes are bloodshot.

Man: I know they are, but matter that not.

Woman: Fucking burnout, I ought to know what I sought.

Man: In me? I can't understand why the friction is brought.

Woman: It's your friends, a bunch of fiends, the lot.

Man: I fear I love them dear, however why is not clear.

Woman: They live in a blur, everything is done on a spur. What kind of living is that?

And that is that, and there I sat.
Wordless and burdened, with the lip of this cat.