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ray-suarezPoems
They sell **** to poor people. But its OK. They are poor too. I love that fiction book section. I feel like I'm getting one over on them. Hemingway,$1. Saroyan, $1,The Bronte girls,$1,D.H., $1, Sartre,$3, Camus...25¢... I walk to the counter "Your total is...$10." They feel like they're getting one over on me. Anyways... (shit...I've been drinking. It makes everything seem poetic.) I'm standing in the fiction section. It's next to the women's bathroom And it reeks like demon's **** I stand staring Lobotomized. So many titles So much **** But... you never know... **** I was just thinking about the time I made a *** tape at 15...) I found some more Hem, Voltaire, Joyce . I was having an Ok Day. Then I smelled it. Lavender on fire In a torched Green-black forest. I looked over. A beautiful blonde Knelt down Searching the very bottom row Of the fiction section. Christ... May I combust Now And never see another Sight. She stood up And stepped closer to me Our shoulders touched. "Sorry" she smiled Green eyes. I never notice eyes. Green eyes. "That's alright." ***** She stood right next to me Maybe, 10 minutes. Say something You lonely miserable ******* All that reading you've done She is browsing at fiction... Say something, ****** Then her friends walked over "Hey,(sunburntlavendardrippinginnapalm) you ready to go?" "Hold up..." She exhaled Say something You drunkard lonely son of a ***** She stood up. Looked at me. Then left. Green eyes. I exhaled Looked at the bottom shelf. SHE, was there again... Carson McCullers. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter With her "You'll never finish me, Ray." Smirk. I smirked back. Took her up to the counter... $3.
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Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
For the Blonde Haired Girl In The Fiction Section Of The ***** Old Thrift Store.
They sell **** to poor people. But its OK. They are poor too. I love that fiction book section. I feel like I'm getting one over on them. Hemingway,$1. Saroyan, $1,The Bronte girls,$1,D.H., $1, Sartre,$3, Camus...25¢... I walk to the counter "Your total is...$10." They feel like they're getting one over on me. Anyways... (shit...I've been drinking. It makes everything seem poetic.) I'm standing in the fiction section. It's next to the women's bathroom And it reeks like demon's **** I stand staring Lobotomized. So many titles So much **** But... you never know... **** I was just thinking about the time I made a *** tape at 15...) I found some more Hem, Voltaire, Joyce . I was having an Ok Day. Then I smelled it. Lavender on fire In a torched Green-black forest. I looked over. A beautiful blonde Knelt down Searching the very bottom row Of the fiction section. Christ... May I combust Now And never see another Sight. She stood up And stepped closer to me Our shoulders touched. "Sorry" she smiled Green eyes. I never notice eyes. Green eyes. "That's alright." ***** She stood right next to me Maybe, 10 minutes. Say something You lonely miserable ******* All that reading you've done She is browsing at fiction... Say something, ****** Then her friends walked over "Hey,(sunburntlavendardrippinginnapalm) you ready to go?" "Hold up..." She exhaled Say something You drunkard lonely son of a ***** She stood up. Looked at me. Then left. Green eyes. I exhaled Looked at the bottom shelf. SHE, was there again... Carson McCullers. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter With her "You'll never finish me, Ray." Smirk. I smirked back. Took her up to the counter... $3.
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ray-suarez
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
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