we are not. and that impedes the luscious.
are you one of them ? combing the pantomime of obscure ? are you really that naive ?
do you have what i came here for ?
do you really ?
let's check.
how many temples have you burned to the ground
in the last 24 hours ?
Did you tip a sacred cow when i wasn't looking ?
are those my absolutes
flailing in a sea of ' Could Be ' ?
can i *** a cigarette ? yet ?
there are better sins to love in a crisis. better hurricanes to typhoon the blithering idiocy
of a storm's eye. a direct kink. a direct calm.
there are ways around the fickle shame of honesty;
while being yourself.
it's another room.
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going... "
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going. "
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going ..."
a lot.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
we are not. and that impedes the luscious.
are you one of them ? combing the pantomime of obscure ? are you really that naive ?
do you have what i came here for ?
do you really ?
let's check.
how many temples have you burned to the ground
in the last 24 hours ?
Did you tip a sacred cow when i wasn't looking ?
are those my absolutes
flailing in a sea of ' Could Be ' ?
can i *** a cigarette ? yet ?
there are better sins to love in a crisis. better hurricanes to typhoon the blithering idiocy
of a storm's eye. a direct kink. a direct calm.
there are ways around the fickle shame of honesty;
while being yourself.
it's another room.
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going... "
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going. "
and no one is ' one of the boys '
till a woman says "Hello...
I must be going ..."
a lot.
Request permission to use this poem