Oh how badly I'd like to express to thee
How horribly I'd like to impale thee
Onto a rod of shiny silver
Straight through your innards
Make you quiver
With tears of despair and screams of agony
I will watch you die beside me.

I lie all the time, but it's mostly to myself.

i’m tired of tattered metaphors
we are all just mongrels made of meat
a flowery soliloquy
only makes old hat smell sweet

there is nothing new under the sun
or so the story goes
a rolling stone does not gather moss
but a poet reaps the words he sows

creativity escapes even me
in a quite unsightly manner
what started out on an epic route
has ended with a stammer