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ashby-brownPoems
I see the head Atop the mirror Nine tails out of ten An exhale through tram Steam Red ******* up the dining room Stairs colored bread Not here Not now Theft knows Not the proud I am in love with the words Feel the fingers itch In Wait as time Tries to peck at my skin Like the Raven to roadkill Laughing underneath Black winged' beak I am what I was born to be Forever/Always/Fortuned to be Miss-fortuned Destiny rapping on the doors of uninformed Creative Productivity A conveyor belt for our sins Best Seller's and wine mules I yawn So to breathe Feeding a mind Whose only wish Is to live To continue And to fold out The creases Glass atop tables Conversation infused Beer stains old rumors A nod so the needy smoke Wafts of  Freudian mistakes Make-up for the dollops Of misplaced rouge bright red Mahogany & jet black purple; The lie is not the fault, but The natural fear Of truth.
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Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
Forever/Always/Fortuned to be Miss-fortuned
I see the head Atop the mirror Nine tails out of ten An exhale through tram Steam Red ******* up the dining room Stairs colored bread Not here Not now Theft knows Not the proud I am in love with the words Feel the fingers itch In Wait as time Tries to peck at my skin Like the Raven to roadkill Laughing underneath Black winged' beak I am what I was born to be Forever/Always/Fortuned to be Miss-fortuned Destiny rapping on the doors of uninformed Creative Productivity A conveyor belt for our sins Best Seller's and wine mules I yawn So to breathe Feeding a mind Whose only wish Is to live To continue And to fold out The creases Glass atop tables Conversation infused Beer stains old rumors A nod so the needy smoke Wafts of  Freudian mistakes Make-up for the dollops Of misplaced rouge bright red Mahogany & jet black purple; The lie is not the fault, but The natural fear Of truth.
Written by
ashby-brown
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
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