if you cut me open
you would hear music

All choked up inside because
                             there is so much I never say, wanting
                                                    to share everything and grow up
           way too fast, that's not how
                           things work around here, not
               now under microscopes

                                  I love you to the point of
  not breathing, a precaution to
     ensure such radical notions remain where they
       are, but today you

                                           told me the greatest thing you could
                                               ever have brought to my ears, that you
                                                             ­          recognize
                                                        the simple truth, the difference, this
                                                wonderful knowledge you and I have of each
                                                 other, something others chase for so much
                                                            time­, and yes we have some of
that loosely-defined handhold on
reality, the ticking, but
                                           I need you to know, I
                                                               ­         
still cannot find words.

Reeking havoc upon your words,
Snickering, laughing, sneering away,
Making you feel like lowly cattle terds.
This is my goal, my joy for today.

Hope you go now to cry in your bed,
Hope you’re depressed by what you’ve now read.

I mean to hate, I mean to harm
I write with disgust and hatred for you,
Ending in my fingers from my heart through my arm,
Your poems a joke I hope you die too…..

The words, they whirl
    The thoughts, they swirl,
  Inside a chaotic mind.
   Do you have the time,
    To read between the lines,
And try to define,
The twisted thoughts, of a complex mind?
              Take a leaf of paper,
       Write it all down,
Don’t lead them straight in,
      But explore the pathways around
What hides in your mind.
    Accused of much,
               Guilty of more,
Your lies blow up in my face,
         Like it’s a never ending war.
   You walked out, slammed the door,
Said you needed me,
         Then became unsure.
You stormed out,
     Threw me away.
What could I do, what could I say?
     Open minds, open mine.
Buff it up, and make it shine.
       Take your thoughts, and take your time.
Leave me here, fighting for rhymes,
        To explain,
In words,
        What you’ve done.

Some people perceive the act of
******* on a grave
To be a gesture of crude rudeness.
I couldn't disagree more.
How else is one to interact with the dead?
Digging them up is rather time consuming-
Not to mention illegal-
Whereas your ***** provides a direct stream-
A stream of warmth; life-
Straight down to your loved one.
Their physical situation is already on its way
To becoming one with nature.
I know if I were down there
I'd welcome any and all to
Stand or squat.
Help me rot.

Being wise too young
Is a huge mistake.
One that I'm
Not willing to make.

Id rather take chances,
Be careless and free,
Than taking things slow,
And so carefully.

Id rather be curious,
Than to always know.
Id rather jump out a plane,
Than to stay safe and low.

Id rather ride a moter-bike,
Than a mini-van.
Id rather risk a burn,
Than give up a tan.

Being wise too young
Is a huge mistake.
One that I'm
Not willing to make.