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I decide it's better to live like a hang glider, to look down at rivers snaking towards hips. Better to hold handlebars like cold lips. Better to take the tongue to teeth, than try to guess what's in her coffee. I'll be high in the morning; still a speck in her eyes, as she pukes in the Cheerios and tells me not to look because it's unbecoming. But I've seen her puke when we're watching the Dog Whisperer. She'll be staring up at me and I know that she'll be thinking about hanging a motherfuker with a tight rope pulled from a trapdoor hinged by her lavender ******* Let me fall to the earth through that opening. Crush me with the nails that hold you together.
0
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
Night of the Living Dead.
I decide it's better to live like a hang glider, to look down at rivers snaking towards hips. Better to hold handlebars like cold lips. Better to take the tongue to teeth, than try to guess what's in her coffee. I'll be high in the morning; still a speck in her eyes, as she pukes in the Cheerios and tells me not to look because it's unbecoming. But I've seen her puke when we're watching the Dog Whisperer. She'll be staring up at me and I know that she'll be thinking about hanging a motherfuker with a tight rope pulled from a trapdoor hinged by her lavender ******* Let me fall to the earth through that opening. Crush me with the nails that hold you together.
Waverly
Written by
35/M/American
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
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