A straight road of chaos
winding through the insides of her
Burning down the highway
Let’s ride it together
Brave it with acid in our heads
A very impious worm eating up
all that’s inside her yet she can
do nothing except to sit
in that stainless steel chair
bought from Ikea
motionless
like their model
And all I could do was to stand there
Holding her hands through all the tears
Whose was it? I no longer know…
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guerrilla.moon 
this is real sweet…i know lit students are supposed to go beyond “sweet”, “nice” etc. but this one is almost (ahem) immanent. close close.
i think we need some kind of a standard for free verse. what makes good free verse? or maybe the beauty of free verse is really in its freedom — free to be what the reader wants, as you say.
Criticism is a way of showing love. Keep it coming. ^^