I wrote this today
 

The Marxist. Quit from Harvard lit' to strum guitars at the park for cents.
He hums his heart and scars unstitch to drips his sick on a Barbie's lips.
He's hardly Ken. Harley Quinn's more of partner. The Arkham prince.
Guards his darkness from his Barbie/kids. Carves out parts that harbor sin.
He comes apart, 'cause parts of him that aren't so harsh are all but dim.
His charm and wit are tarnished. Missed, are his carcinogenic carbon prints.
The horror within 'em and carnal sin are what armored his partial parts from risk.

U should write the rest of it......

MAYBE I WILL

Life is ruff and your passion to express your inner conflict is a cry for someone to love you, even through your countless betrayals. Perchance, two wounded hearts will line up with Cupid's aiming bow! Maybe after that Casablanca tape runs out.

thanks

1

Great feedback. That woman should post here.

Marxist scum.

Didn't like how you used "Barbie" twice, but this was good overall; scheme-wise & staying on topic

I'd read more

good shit. this was very clean and the flow was on point. as stated previously, it'd be great if you finished this.