This poem. brings joy to my hearte. it's a triumph damnit i don't know why or how but i feel it... in my left knee cap... an old break dancing injury from back when they still called me sir flip rock. Sharon Tate was my biological mother. i am the the afterbirth working itself into a new line of conditioning products.

I'm part hungarian Gypsy, but this poem is about Osmosis fool. Not Hungarians, That, and being hungry. Hungry? I'm cooking soup for my son and myself currently. Care for a bowl?

end it with the previous line. "eve of doom' tells us nothing new; you have already said 'execurioner' so we know what's coming...

thanks z, pasting work is always crap with the grammar, what suggestions for eve of doom?

Yes. There need be more.

Spectacular composition by the way..like wagner after a lobodomy and botched sex change operation. Resting easy though in the comfort of affordable good jewish therapy, and a good shabbas.

I cnat answer those questions cause the situation in real life is not resolved, but thankyou verym uch for your comment, i think they are really good points and i will take them into consideration, i need ot get closer ot my subject to understnad her more, oh and im the peasant, this is my odd attempt at a love poem, hehhehhe i need help

yes but why? i want CONSTRUCTIVe critisism not DESTRUCTIVE critisicm richard. I also want ot learn how to spell but thats another days work

I think the title says it all about I felt: PAIN. Need there be more?