I just want to spill my guts to you let loose every withheld thought just take a scalpel and carve into my brain carnage will be wrought and blood will rain as i empty my mind to you or maybe not maybe i'm afraid of what will splash on the page demons let loose from their fleshy cage. passion straight out of hell perhaps ill end up being an empty shell hollow as the house I sit in running away from potential my mind juggles hypothetics to life we become impartial "a brains look like hedge maze", and other ironics in a poem its almost oxymoronic in life it's just moronic