The thought that captures my eyes, 
like the pendulum above the pit
of rats and despair,
is the thought that, maybe, 
someday, you will be caught
in a web, dangling from a thread
in a catch-23 or maybe 24, as I once was.

I am filled with the desire
of being emptied of the words you imposed on my brain,
because now your mind is an open book 
and I?m writing you off the page- not to mix metaphors.

As Shakespeare said
?Love is hell?
or something to that effect.
So when your vanities are all burned
and your odysseys are all completed,
the three old witches with one glass eye
will tell you to sleep tight, you moron, because 
it?s too late to re-write, with a happy ending -
you?ve spent your ink drawing in the margins.