I'm foreign this trial
Fucking flowers stuck in sin
To the Prince proper or 'Little' and
Damn it! I see it!
And this poem rhymes
Too scrawny for power but
Too fat to love her and
Nothing ... but nothing ...
Will take the pyrite out of the hulls
Of ships made of gold with even golder souls
Or help me understand this play-at-arms-length
To break the ice between me and Brecht
Or stop me from smiling despite the fact
I think this act will kill me though I don't know how
And stop this search engine powered sweet-fuck-nothing
To stop you from loving me now
I don't post finished material, its weird, but I guess I post stuff whenever I feel like its enough for here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment