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kira-fergusonPoems
These harsh evenings have us all turned to jacks Tonight, we are not but walking puffs... Hot with split tongues, hard feelings, and morbid musings Littered on the curb along side blazing eyes and coffee stains The stars are fading and morning glow consumes them In gulps Early morning hours are rushed with nicotine And infused with rich fermentation Which churns deep in our guts Spilling and twisting them for our eyes to see We are all there, or have been... Rotting in the space where geometry leaves us without proofs Roaches we hit But what a drag it is To sit street-side with friends Whose hearts and minds are spinning on a compass With no magnetic pull Whatsoever
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Butts, Ash, and Beer
These harsh evenings have us all turned to jacks Tonight, we are not but walking puffs... Hot with split tongues, hard feelings, and morbid musings Littered on the curb along side blazing eyes and coffee stains The stars are fading and morning glow consumes them In gulps Early morning hours are rushed with nicotine And infused with rich fermentation Which churns deep in our guts Spilling and twisting them for our eyes to see We are all there, or have been... Rotting in the space where geometry leaves us without proofs Roaches we hit But what a drag it is To sit street-side with friends Whose hearts and minds are spinning on a compass With no magnetic pull Whatsoever
kira-ferguson
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kira-ferguson
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
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