-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.6 Nov 2003

I can't begin to describe how this poeme made me feel. Mostly like breaking all your fingers so you'd never again write anything like "Today I dressed myself in rain" or "We are primates who swallow the keys of freedom/Performing for others voyeuristic preconceptions".

This isn't a poem, it's pretentious guff with line breaks sprinkled arbitrarily throughout. Maybe you should try reading some real poetry by actual poets next time you're thinking of putting a draft of last year's suicide note through an autoformatter and posting it here.