oh?
i don't emote enough?

**** you and your caster-plast
shell of emotion
you beg for a feeling
like i ask for a cigarette

"so young"

you are goddamn right

and i'm only getting better
by the time i hit 30 the
book will be out
i'll be free
from your criticism, comments, casual
allusions to colin
yeah, yeah, yeah

i'll be free
some publisher will notice me,
my beautiful cadence,
and he'll sign me on the spot

can you imagine that?

no more chasing girls
time will stop on
an ever spinning axis
and the burning trees rule the world

rejected?

for what?

for ****ing swearing?

there are bleeding hedges
filled with spider webs
and i delve into their nest daily

i understand
nothing
about them but i know they live
inside of my life
and inside of my walls

i am the voice
that whispers when you nearly fall asleep
i am
trauma and madness
i am the boy who
brings you on your knees
to beg forgiveness
when i have none to lend

anyway
i really hope i get published
oh, such spiders with
so many complicated legs

run with the hope
one of us ****ing
"makes it"