I raise the bone up to my two juicy lips
and I purse.
Here comes the carcinogen, the miasmic smoke,
the old ghost.
But, my
love,
it's not like it
was.
My love,
it's
not like it was.
I pick into the basalt black, like a boss.
I exhale,
mining verses from my vernacular
like
poisonous
metal.
But, my
love,
it's not like it
was.
It's nothing like it was,
and I'm perfectly fine.
In a manner of speaking.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
I raise the bone up to my two juicy lips
and I purse.
Here comes the carcinogen, the miasmic smoke,
the old ghost.
But, my
love,
it's not like it
was.
My love,
it's
not like it was.
I pick into the basalt black, like a boss.
I exhale,
mining verses from my vernacular
like
poisonous
metal.
But, my
love,
it's not like it
was.
It's nothing like it was,
and I'm perfectly fine.
In a manner of speaking.
