I can hear the beams failing at L13. Creeeeeeeak, splat!

my left eyeball just imploded. thanks.

You could remove like 10 words from this poem and make it better, but ramble on.

Hey what happened? I left you a comment @ 45 min. ago.

Ask the flight attendant to bring you a blanket, and some hot cocoa. your Po-M is poopilicious.

7,000 dollars! 7,000 dollars! ( Hot Tamales are aero-dynamic) I'm glad I went to bed early that night.

You are very sexy.

Sure you do. However, you should really seek help for this "vampire" delusion of yours. I know people with the same problem and it can be treated.While you're at it, you should learn to spell, and perhaps write a decent poem.

'Spoken without thought'? My foot. If it's spoken without thought, then it's not a taunt. It's a spoken thought. Taunts are thought up and used deliberatly. Like what I'm saying now.

Excellent, excellent.

This poem is a good reflection on the discussion I was having with Christof this a.m. This is one of my favorite poems, not just of yours, but ever. Substancial & etherial. Duality of my existence.

Good title for rubbish. How dare you draw me in and then present this. I am offended. Are you in advertising?

I'd like to read about 4 more stanzas, rzrgrn. Seems to be the start of a poetic story.

why 162 stanzas? not that the words are not beautiful, but there is hardly enough here to be cause for an epic length. it seems more well suited to be its own volume than to be presented thus, electronically and straining to the eyes. i must admit that the stanzas being numbered, and the length of it daunts me, especially without a rhythmic meter to pull me through it.

Fat kids get what they deserve. The title is a Bruce Hornsby song not a haiku title.

I thought this was going to be good but it fell apart line by line until it pooped out in horrific fashion at the end.

I think the whole thing is good until the line 'I was so selfish ...' The first two verses were't whiney, they were kind of dispassionate reports, in striking and concrete language, of feelings that we've all had. 'I can feel the devil blowing his disease into my ear' and 'I feel so sick, I feel like this bed could be my grave and I could feel comfortable in it' remind me of old blues lyrics, there's the faint sense of self-mockery mixed with the genuine emotion, and I like that. Can the bit about girls being mean and your poor sensitive skin being pierced, and being a prince.

then sitting hard pon the teeter totter. the fat kid launches the autistic boy with the prostetic leg and head gear over the chain link fence and into oncoming traffic. the blow of a horn. tire screech. the crunch of wood and plastic. the stink of sliding rubber. jesus christ! i have never seen a retards helmet roll that far. until now.

still there p&k?

This is not bad at all. Just one little thing -- you come out the house, turn around the corner, look at him, drive off -- wait a minute, when did you get into the car?