Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2011
I can't put my twisted finger
'Round the noxious fumes that linger
Like hungry flies around my shaggy head

When the sun arrives at seven
My funk will scrape the heavens
God will shutter at my potent stench

There's a devil in my chest
Sporting snakeskin leather vest
He's the venom in my needle teeth

We sailed the trash of Tennessee
To reach the land of winter leaves
Where life has long since shriveled in the chill

With gaze upon an iron tree
Whose leaves excreted somber steam
We hatched a scheme to steal his yellow eyes

Just inches from the solemn oak
The devil sprung out from my throat
And made off with the amber gift of sight

I stood before the blinded plant
A humbled and defeated man
And laid my weary limbs upon the ground

I climbed into my grave that night
Aided by the lonely light
Of a pair of glowing orbs on the horizon
Chance Willie
Written by
Chance Willie
1.0k
   ---, Emanuel Martinez, --- and Day
Please log in to view and add comments on poems