You just stare with your headphones on -
Your teeth rotting and turning into an oldish gold.
Somewhere between a dusty gray and
And dark yellow

Yes, I think that's what they call it:
Yellow. The kind of yellow you see when you drive through a big city
And find a lot of buildings tattooed in orange street dancers:
Graffiti.

Your teeth and headphones make you look hopeless:
Sitting through homework assignments, no more,
You just want to look at the aspartame in your drink

If only you could see such an ingredient
Sprinkled in your soda like a bunch of kidney stones
Or the cause for them, rather.

Pathogens color the air like blinkers
Of a firetruck:

"Hello, this is causing a disease; stop what I'm doing, but no."

Your antibodies are dead, a sepulcher for broken antibodies is in need.

You have no idea what a good story is:
You think it is a good cat that likes to drink milk.
All that mundane poppycock that means nothing.

Your brain is a telephone wire, something with electricity;
You enjoy poisoning electricity like all the stars:
A broken brain is memorable.

You enjoy staring at an avalanche at times.
It needs a haircut, because it has too much blue hair.
It's like staring at the crime for too long and seeing too much of one kind.

Your days are suicide missions repeating themselves over
And over again with a different weapon each day.

And you just keep staring out that window
With your headphones on

Skin coated like a lifeless goat.

fuchsia - some powerfuel imagery.

but too many personal pro-nouns for me...

Interesting and rather intense poem agree with what you are saying, however I believe it could be said differently and still have the same effect. I agree with Wylde, in many cases you can lose the personal pronouns and still keep the descriptions. For instance: Drinking aspartame kidney stones, rather than how you have it. I love the line "Your days are suicide missions repeating themselves over and over (again) with a different weapon each day. (Or each day's different weapon)

Good job, Hugs and Blessings, Tasha PS Check out my newest poem Eva the Eft