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connor-reidPoems
reverend, hold on to yours heathers pay homage in… cold handshakes, several different when shades weigh the same together pretty present in existence since sense began… priests dressed in electric black shells figurine sand to ocean bell sickness pushing gapes pulling weight praise and break point and gaze motormouth mona and water without europa wont causeway why… mind, body, soul and soda your holy holes in water cry souls and cola jade green ***** curdled in cloth terrorise terracotta blue… his scissor cynicism floating down deep too far in thoughts honed in drunken sleep rotten down faith mustard and grapes horses in hays the churchbell face sipped tears in a moody blues foot heavens name boredom, chair tippin’ lemon gums loose sevens straight one is day horned rims and your empty plates passing on passing on passing on shoes passed out passion with the stuff you use no collide no collide no sliding streams wont bother anyone but simply confuse kholum bala froze dog brush minds chrome collars punching trees and diamond vines woke up at your stomach and started to sink doesnt it look like someones had too much to think man/woman, father/mother, sister/brother simply cut curtains at every corner, hastily turn to your side and roll onto the edge of your forwardness diagonally push a fist backward from a snowy pitch roll ten thousand times in a smooth fabric yaw and **** down the barrel of my jaw
0
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Kholum Bala
reverend, hold on to yours heathers pay homage in… cold handshakes, several different when shades weigh the same together pretty present in existence since sense began… priests dressed in electric black shells figurine sand to ocean bell sickness pushing gapes pulling weight praise and break point and gaze motormouth mona and water without europa wont causeway why… mind, body, soul and soda your holy holes in water cry souls and cola jade green ***** curdled in cloth terrorise terracotta blue… his scissor cynicism floating down deep too far in thoughts honed in drunken sleep rotten down faith mustard and grapes horses in hays the churchbell face sipped tears in a moody blues foot heavens name boredom, chair tippin’ lemon gums loose sevens straight one is day horned rims and your empty plates passing on passing on passing on shoes passed out passion with the stuff you use no collide no collide no sliding streams wont bother anyone but simply confuse kholum bala froze dog brush minds chrome collars punching trees and diamond vines woke up at your stomach and started to sink doesnt it look like someones had too much to think man/woman, father/mother, sister/brother simply cut curtains at every corner, hastily turn to your side and roll onto the edge of your forwardness diagonally push a fist backward from a snowy pitch roll ten thousand times in a smooth fabric yaw and **** down the barrel of my jaw
2012
connor-reid
Written by
connor-reid
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
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