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matalie-nillerPoems
Heart beating like the RPM of a sleek **** racing car, wubwubwubwub drop the bass my heart, with you so fast it's still, like zero degrees kelvin and 100 degrees hot in my pants. Darling would it be obscene if I told you that you make me scream? In my dreams, in my head you and me for never dead. Leaps of faith through hoops of fire don't amount to much my dear unless you're scorched charred and blistered as a tender, succulent pig. Weee weee weee all the way home we sing we dance we drool and chain gang the whole lot of them to the wings of the pretty angel statues, so rough and hard, how do they fly? But we do, at any given moment, soaring and searching and we tangle up the tarantulas in their trinity of turbulence because my god we are for real.
0
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
Thank God I'm Fried
Heart beating like the RPM of a sleek **** racing car, wubwubwubwub drop the bass my heart, with you so fast it's still, like zero degrees kelvin and 100 degrees hot in my pants. Darling would it be obscene if I told you that you make me scream? In my dreams, in my head you and me for never dead. Leaps of faith through hoops of fire don't amount to much my dear unless you're scorched charred and blistered as a tender, succulent pig. Weee weee weee all the way home we sing we dance we drool and chain gang the whole lot of them to the wings of the pretty angel statues, so rough and hard, how do they fly? But we do, at any given moment, soaring and searching and we tangle up the tarantulas in their trinity of turbulence because my god we are for real.
Written by
matalie-niller
American
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
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