Theme for English B

The instructor said,

Go home and write

a page tonight.

And let that page come out of you-

Then, it will be true.

So, I sit and search the depths of my wretched mind,
searching for myself.
"Where are you?" I yodel through cavernous depths.
"Here," "no, here," "no, I am here"
Then, which me shall this page come out of?

Traversing the recesses of my mind;
What is constant, what is true?
I know now:

Pants.

My love for pants has an unknowable depth.
My passion runs down, like a vein of ore, to the very core of my being.
My lust for these garments is insatiable.
I will kill for these pants.

So tell me professor: Is this truth? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?
You have awakened a monster, 
and I fear I lack the will to return him.

And tell me,  professor: Do you hold your pants dearly? And where are they kept?
For I have not forgotten
where you reside.
And I will never forget
what you have done.

I try to stay focused.
I try to think of other things.
But when I lose my grip, or rest my eyes,
my mind fills with visions of seams and denim and cuffed goodness.

And then I let go.
I fall through this textillian world of pleasure.
But imagination cannot satisfy my hunger.
I can't go a full day without putting on a pair of pants.
Sometimes I even put on pants four or five times a day.
And he is getting stronger.
I no longer have control.
SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE PROFESSOR?

So, professor,
the next time you see a homeless man on the street begging for pants
know that you did that to him.
Take that to your grave professor. Just remember,
You wanted the truth.