publishing a book is for pussies, and I'm too afraid to be even that

Nothing ever lives to my expectations
but I probably should stop poisoning
and keeping 'em in jars without holes,
specially if they won't stop screaming.

using body tissue to clean up blood

There's a tree growing on the top of my heart,

                                and the roots are strangling it,

                                                                    strangling it,

                                                                 strangling me.

There's a heart growing underneath my tree,

                                and it beats, it beats, it beats.

                                                           My tree shakes,

                                                               not used to it.

There's a heart and a tree growing inside me,

                          and I want to rip both out, now.

                                I only ask for the forgiveness

                                of both lovers and ecologists.