I'll keep no more poems in my pocket
I already hate my subconscious mind
When it's exploding like a rocket
And surpassing space and time

I'll keep no more dreams in my eyes
Or upon my head as a crown of thorns
For it will be my very demise
As shown by the ones already worn

I'll keep no more daggers on my lips
To stab the hearts upon your sleeve
Nor needles on my fingertips
To prick you while you sleep

I'll keep no more poetry untethered
As bad as poison on my smile
No more words for my devil to whisper
That may be wicked, cruel, or vile

My subconscious knows only betrayal
It is a hypocrite, at best
No more will I fringe my voice with nails
Or allow my mind to be a spider's web

-March 14th, 1999-