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dustindeanPoems
The places we hide under For sanctimonious pleasure If it fits, it sits, little sisters So don’t get cold hands on me For our feet will burn elsewhere Pious, but intuitive sensations Receieved for all of us Here in our makeshift cubby Underground The faces we hide from For sacrilegious fervor From one scene to another We’ll be the last ones left Here in our makeshift cubby Under the ground
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Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
The Scene
The places we hide under For sanctimonious pleasure If it fits, it sits, little sisters So don’t get cold hands on me For our feet will burn elsewhere Pious, but intuitive sensations Receieved for all of us Here in our makeshift cubby Underground The faces we hide from For sacrilegious fervor From one scene to another We’ll be the last ones left Here in our makeshift cubby Under the ground
#local#music#scene#destiny#mates#friends#life#community#north#carolina
Written by
dustindean
32/M/Winston-Salem, NC
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
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