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david-badgerowPoems
tonight, i am far too weak to become a star i am a drunken river, all is possible until i reach another life i am a weeping madman on the creeping sidewalks of solitude i make secret deals with buddha in the desert we will find the temples on neptune with flaming radars and silvery kisses we will battle with this massive electric dream and undoubtedly become monsters with nowhere to lay our heads my feet are washed with death my breath is tinged in ecstacy i am naked without identity i am the black felt tip of a pen dancing across white paper i should be left alone there is a fold in the universe surrounded by millions of suns and diamond gold and mercurial fire we can dance and sing and live in it without ourselves without money money made of nothing bellowing over eternity money made of failure pure thought written on paper warheads being fired off at the moon i will ***** and become the hidden son of whitman i scream i starve i will walk through fire and be reduced to white powder i will leave jet plane streaks in the sky i will be remembered bliss on your lips you will see the mediterranean rainbow hear the seagull flying over dolphins screaming and i will swim through the atlantic sun and weep for this antiquity
0
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
fold in the universe
tonight, i am far too weak to become a star i am a drunken river, all is possible until i reach another life i am a weeping madman on the creeping sidewalks of solitude i make secret deals with buddha in the desert we will find the temples on neptune with flaming radars and silvery kisses we will battle with this massive electric dream and undoubtedly become monsters with nowhere to lay our heads my feet are washed with death my breath is tinged in ecstacy i am naked without identity i am the black felt tip of a pen dancing across white paper i should be left alone there is a fold in the universe surrounded by millions of suns and diamond gold and mercurial fire we can dance and sing and live in it without ourselves without money money made of nothing bellowing over eternity money made of failure pure thought written on paper warheads being fired off at the moon i will ***** and become the hidden son of whitman i scream i starve i will walk through fire and be reduced to white powder i will leave jet plane streaks in the sky i will be remembered bliss on your lips you will see the mediterranean rainbow hear the seagull flying over dolphins screaming and i will swim through the atlantic sun and weep for this antiquity
david-badgerow
Written by
david-badgerow
34/M/American
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
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