In response to the complications
you yourself have cursed
I propose the linear analogy
that silences even words.

Meet upon a mountain top
with the answers in your hand,
cast a stone across the stream
with your knees immersed within the sand.

There are trails that will spite you
throughout the many corners that you weave,
that's the plot you yourself escaped from
to the inner being on which you feed.

The few more times I choose to come around
will be the last, I'm sure of it,
with dullness, comes the sharp edge of concentration
if enough curiosity allows for an attempt.

What will be the words, I wonder
when you scream and punch your fist?
And scatter and crush the few leftover fragments
of a fellow you use to kiss
BJ, this is wonderful, it truly is; the way the words flowed was well done and your perspective of a matter that has been used many times in poetry was refreshing and unique. That fourth stanza was really the highlight of this piece; the syntax, flow, enjambment and caesura were done perfectly- my kudos goes to you for that.
I don't really have anything to add except maybe you should change the last line of the piece; it left me wanting more, but in an anticlimatic way.

Thank you for posting BJ and if you have time could you please check out my piece 'Africa'; that would be awesome.
yeah, i had the urge to keep writing on this, but i figure i didn't know if i would stop very soon, so where i did seemed as good as any. thanks for the comments, and i did take a look at yours.