The ribbon of our lives
tied by our emotions.
Just like
interlaced fingers.
Eternal, just like
my emotions for you.
Unrequited affection.
Never satisfied.
Thirsty for more,
but never attainable.

I hate you.
You grotesque thing.
No reason for living
except to **** a human being.
The length of my pinkie nail,
like needles and pins
grasping for the attention of my skin,
but to no avail.
Little thing with little life,
the beauty of red;
Death is your meaning of being,
your scarlet fountain of youth
is my strife.
Oh you grotesque butterfly
on four instead of two
give me your kiss;
violet and deep ocean.
You vampyre of humanity
your life is unfair
but so discerning.
I hate you.

My heart may be ice,
but all of my tears I shed
are little embers.

How to write poetry.
There is nothing worse than time.
Silently waiting until the day my father comes.
**** this I can't write poems for **** anymore.

Cold, like the spring breeze
I laugh that you can see it
My sullen smile

There is nothing that
can counteract the balance.
..Wretched imagery..

If I wrote haikus,
A rose by any other name,
Thinks itself taller.