Well, my feet, they feel like
Saggy sacks of soggy moss;
As if they went for a hike
And suffered some Great Loss.
And the thorny feelers
Penetrate Barefoot Monkees.
Is loathing made of mirrors?
Is every girl a tease?...
Good G-d my stomach hurts! --
Your Divine Justice, blessed.
My vessel is vibing hertz
As it bears The Distress:
But, if I make my feet
Acknowledge more smiles than frowns;
And my Neuroses cease to bleat
While I analyze nouns...
Is there a New Normal?
Grace from benevolent gods?
Or will Hope choke, fade in Stealth
As Blind eyes miss her nods?
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
Well, my feet, they feel like
Saggy sacks of soggy moss;
As if they went for a hike
And suffered some Great Loss.
And the thorny feelers
Penetrate Barefoot Monkees.
Is loathing made of mirrors?
Is every girl a tease?...
Good G-d my stomach hurts! --
Your Divine Justice, blessed.
My vessel is vibing hertz
As it bears The Distress:
But, if I make my feet
Acknowledge more smiles than frowns;
And my Neuroses cease to bleat
While I analyze nouns...
Is there a New Normal?
Grace from benevolent gods?
Or will Hope choke, fade in Stealth
As Blind eyes miss her nods?
I'd like to dedicate this poem to Bad Brain Cells.
Request permission to use this poem