and i guess i'm just asking,
if all the things you said to yourself, appeared on your body,
would you still be beautiful?

You think I'm crazy?
HA! That's real funny.

If I were crazy, would I have written a twelve-hundred-page novel without using a single vowel?
No. 'Cause I did. And I'm not crazy.

If I were crazy, would I be able to predict the future by dropping empty tuna cans into an open drain in my backyard?
No. 'Cause I can. And I'm not crazy.

If I were crazy, would I love to slit your ******* throat just to watch the color drain from from your face and onto that cleanly pressed collared shirt of yours?
Yes. I would love that if I were crazy.

But I'm not crazy.

Ten thousand will die tonight
As they argue who is right
Endlessly, they **** and fight
Losing touch, and losing sight

"Farewell, my friend" I must say
As another loved one ships away
To fight a fight that has no sway
A pointless battle of sick decay

Two dead soldiers drop in dirt
Bullet holes all through their shirts
All are fighting, most are hurt
Nothing helps this, nothing works

I don't know how to write happy
When I do, it sounds tired and sappy
So I write the truth
About how I am sad...

My poetry is the kind that gets stuck in your throat
It leaves a bad taste
And it makes you choke

I write things that stick inside of your brain
Words that trap you deep into my pain
I tangle you up in my sad tales spoken
Allowing you to see that I am  broken