I've got the gene pool
breathing down my neck
and I'm Georgia Pine high;
you're a willing, hot mess.
I get surgical with it.

Wanna be, so badly,
wanna be so bad
and split your treasures
amongst myself
and wedge my theories
into your brain.

Those eyes hold diamonds
like the stars of Hoag's Object;
the object of my afflicted affection
prepared for a sacrilege operation.
Last edited by BluePaintCult at Mar 31, 2012,
Ha, "wedge".

I think the only constructive thing this really needs is that the first 12 lines could do with a bit more punctuation to control the flow.

That's all I got.
Eyes holding diamond is a bit of a cliché, don't you think? It's a clumsy stanza too.

The first two stanzas were pretty flawless though.
This is not a pipe