blah blah blah. i want to set some of my friends on fire. maybe then they'll leave me alone.

i'm a work in progress
a rough draft of something complete and whole
worthwhile and trusting, who willingly feels love instead of hate

i've been deleting potential poetry as soon as i start to write it

makes me wish
someone could just hit my clear button.
i don't care for starting anew. i want erasure.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn