Personal Plato

You're an immature
Lay-philosopher
With self-proclaimed
Original ideas
And a sense of
Self importance
Disproportionate
To your achievements,
But true to your
Quick intellect.
You ramble
In quasi-existential
Philosophy,
On love, life, society,
You're a genius, no doubt,
Flawed, crazy,
Self-destructive and
Disenchanted,
Apathetic until the
Fifth or sixth drink,
When you turn to me
Spitting truths,
Cutting through the lies
Of our world.
You are brilliant.
I doubt, I laugh,
But through the swagger
And bullshit
And mock outrage,
It's true and you're right
Always right,
About everything.
You're my personal Plato;
Perhaps that's why
I love you.