Haven't written much since i wrote those Haiku... so i figured i'd give it another shot. This isn't a haiku, obviously, it's just a random slew of words i guess. Nothing is editted, this is just what came out of my fingers literally 3 minutes ago. Sorry if it sucks. But thanks for reading.

So I’ve got this box, right?
It’s hidden up in my closet, above
The old battleship game and behind
The poof of my sister’s prom dress.
So this box, it’s got tons of cool things
It’s full of poorly written poems (sound familiar?)
It’s got letters,
To You,
From Me. Smileyface
Angryangry words, yelling through sad little lines
About you and this other girl
Shaina. The *****.
I’m going through this box, right? And listening to
Crappy indie music that I don’t even like.
That I pretend to like because it’s
What you like.
It’s you.
This whole box, a shoe box from Hot Topic
That I got in eighth grade because I was going through a phase
And I thought I was cool and alternative.
Now in eleventh grade, I realize the truth.
You are shit, and so is this box. This sadsad box
Full of sharpsharp things and badbad poems
About the time in eighth grade when I was convinced that I loved you
But what does an eighth grader know about love?
What does an eleventh grader know about love?
I know this much.
It sucks.
It always has.
It always will.
i'd take out those last four lines. and the parenthetical phrase up there. the shaina line, i could deal with some more detail on that. actually, deal with more detail regarding all of the letters, the poems, excerpts, phrases, etc. i think it'd make it a bit more personal (and **** what ts eliot says about that). the last two lines before the final four were really simple, but not too much so.

okay wow. i was just about to write that this reminds me a lot of one of my favorite pieces ever and you should read it to see how to flesh out those unnecessary bits and go for raw affect.
but as it turns out, you already did.
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

Thanks for the crit. And yeah, i know it needs work. I almost never revise anything, so your help and generally other people's help is really all i go on to fix things.

Also, i love the poem that you suggested that i read that i've already read. It's one of my favorites too.