Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
i am a salesman
my pockets full of sand i call
gold dust
standing at the street corner
your pipe dreams done up in
glitter, chrome, and steel

i am a wishing well
as empty as my promises
bone dry
throw your pennies down
copper against cobblestones
mocking the hint of a sound

empty yourselves into me
i'm exactly what you wanted me to be
everybody's a liar, but a girl's got to eat.
like clockwork
Written by
like clockwork
392
     Inkveined and the Sandman
Please log in to view and add comments on poems