you are obviously a fuck hole.

wow, I love this poem.

my heart is a pasted paper scrap on my glossy chest
--is a great line

litter the streets of an abandoned bedroom city.
--is the best line

-10-

I love the first line.

"death" is only a he, because you make him one in your poem. Death is not the last thing, but the least thing.

I flows smoothly, but there are a couple parts that I feel were...well that they were for lack of better words, basically. Like, "a God of thunder," I dunno...seemed like something you would write when you'er young.

I think this is the best poem I've read on this yet to date. Honestly.

*comical...

Hmm, well, I think you could probably spend some time rolling this over in your mind to come up with a more creative way of expressing what you feel. The language is just very dry. I get what your saying, and you speak it clearly, but maybe that's your angle.

hmmm, seems a bit dry. The laughing at funerals part has potential, but yeah...it's a bit dry. Like toast without butter.

You see, a backspace is eternally depressed,
Submerged deep in the sanguine depths,
Of illiterate logic,
A child's voice is heard nonetheless.

--nice, very nice. Actually Dave, your humor has, in the past, inspired me to not take things so seriously.

Good stuff.

eh

somebody call the waaaaaaaaaaaaaambulance.

fish smells like fingers.

was it a wet paper bag?

she-car

The only thing that seperates love and hate is indifference...which is plainly what I'm forced to feel right now...oh no...that's a yaaaaaaaaaaawn.

very nice

I can appreciate the sentiment, but Crystal, the lyric of this poem really comes off like something a high school student would write. Sorry to be harsh, but I think you have a habit of selling yourself short with infintile rhetoric.

*Infantile

I love it. I agree with Tranny. Marshmallow loses the fine wine flavor that permeates throughout the rest of the poem. Good one.