I just want to spill my guts to you
let loose every withheld thought
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 oxymoronic
in life it's moronic
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