Maybe a salesman type.

Will you write my eulogy, please?

Madcap.

yep. mind is the culprit again.

Interesting structure. 6.

Plaintive but with an upbeat rhythm, a combination that works well 'till line seven, when it descends into borderline "angst" land. My advice, for what it's worth; you're better of going for "angry" than for "self-pity", especially with that rhythm. .5.

I have seen these symptoms, but, alas, you may be suffering from a side effect of reading to many of the poems to which you refer: "pedanticitis" .7.

I'd love to roam your cortex. But due to losing my arms in that scrabble game, I wouldn't be able to touch you. I should've bet money, damnit!

I would call it Culdesac. Then lose all of the pretentious bullshit you worded it with, because it's just fucking incredibly shortsighted... seriously this poem looks like a blind kindergarten class pitching horse shoes in traffic. the haiku would be Spoiled architect brat. Boo hoo you forked up again Scratch head, skyscraper.

mesmorizing...spell check.

It might take your whole life to learn how to spell silicone, idiot.

If you put your brain in a hot frying pan, would the pan crack or your sole?

replace 'was' with 'is' in your title and i think you have something fundamentally sound here

The last stanza, while i like it doesn't really work well with the one before it. I really think you should switch Stanzas 6 and 7. It just seems alot better to me that way.

Lovely arguement but if we are love and we try to posses love is that like trying to cage ourselves?

love does not cause despair. mind causes despair. love is everything, dude.

my deepest condolences

Sorry to see this poem hasn't been re-edited. She is worthy of so much more. Don't leave her hanging.

Elegant. Where's the guitar shop? I went to Manny's in NY once but i could only afford a T-Shirt after the hotel bill. 9.

all this over some delicious and sticky buns?? this is why i stick to meat...ah yes...delicious and sticky cow buns.