By: David W. Clare
It's so **** bizarre just like a Mickey Spillane novel now I grovel trying to unravel it all!
I used to think love is blind, now I know lust is blind. I don't know what love is and I don't mind...
I don't have no soul mate
Still I don't feel so great I'm not the dating kind...
Lust is blind or am I just torn like a wind blown rage from a worn out page like a cheap love romance sage?
All I know for sure is lust is blind...
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Film Noir poems by, d. Clare