I would gladly give my life,
to rid you from this world.
The lines will become straight,
and circles will become curled.
Heaven doesn’t want you,
and hell is why you’re running.
Angels cry when they hear your voice,
and the devils think you’re stunning.
I don’t know what you are,
I no longer even dare to care.
Shower yourself with this gasoline,
and wait right here for the flare.
dead beat poet 
one of my favorites…