Verb, verb, verb you hurt my nouns
making me trust the tics, tremor is.
I need you, blind are my days, without
dark notes, beating breasts, in haste.
Fingers, twirl within, kneading my mind
to, into your fire, painfull are the eggs.
Will you come back for your chickens,
I will feed them the peanuts, with you.

Is It Poetry

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/u-can-keep-the-peanuts/