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torchinorfanijPoems
I often contemplate the half a plate that I ate with half a face Half this juice is past its date I can tell by its after taste More than a little bitter.. And the only decency is buried deep beneath the middle But Now The bottom of the base of this cup is leaking too. Or Is that the regrets of my heart speaking through? ... It's hard feeling like peaking when its the weekend and you're thinking while everybody is sleeping All alone with no reason other than being a rolling stone That just can't get no satisfaction of his own I tainted that So paint it black Take it back And make it fast Please don't make it last I feel as naked as a monster with no Jason Mask I feel a weak grip on me... In a Kryptonite crib built with a crypt For me Plus a wet blanket stitched Just like a quilt! For me. I can't tip toe around these eggshells on stilts You see This poet is just a character I've imagined up To handle the damage I've been handed To saddle up And steadily battle these matters up Because the aftermath and after what is after us Disasterous If it catches you faster without an Acura Or master bus pass Must last through the night though Tomorrow. We'll bother to borrow somebody's light pole The sorrow So sour It gets more intense by the hour So pucker up and feel fates lips drip with power
0
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
Food for Thoth
I often contemplate the half a plate that I ate with half a face Half this juice is past its date I can tell by its after taste More than a little bitter.. And the only decency is buried deep beneath the middle But Now The bottom of the base of this cup is leaking too. Or Is that the regrets of my heart speaking through? ... It's hard feeling like peaking when its the weekend and you're thinking while everybody is sleeping All alone with no reason other than being a rolling stone That just can't get no satisfaction of his own I tainted that So paint it black Take it back And make it fast Please don't make it last I feel as naked as a monster with no Jason Mask I feel a weak grip on me... In a Kryptonite crib built with a crypt For me Plus a wet blanket stitched Just like a quilt! For me. I can't tip toe around these eggshells on stilts You see This poet is just a character I've imagined up To handle the damage I've been handed To saddle up And steadily battle these matters up Because the aftermath and after what is after us Disasterous If it catches you faster without an Acura Or master bus pass Must last through the night though Tomorrow. We'll bother to borrow somebody's light pole The sorrow So sour It gets more intense by the hour So pucker up and feel fates lips drip with power
But who cares.
#dead#bitter#hurt#love#confused#meaningless
torchinorfanij
Written by
torchinorfanij
30/M
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
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