#dames
Why *** lie *** mowing a way Black Reigns, Pull in spite blue wind Blow win Chains
Saw row dove in foam pie strains stare his pleasure bee twin faux brick dames
Lies tat lie wow stains high streets raking like father calls, waking
Sleep shaking width gall dis charity may sky is carry me disdain forsaken
Smile the sight sauced swirled dreams key drown complacent
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
Dames, man
It's always the dames
that drain your
heart
wallet
and the will
to carry on
At least
they please
the senses
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC
Hank couldn't understand
What the two young dames at
The bar were saying in
Their foreign tongue, perched on
High stools in their short skirts,
With nine tenths of their thighs
Showing and their dark eyes
Glowing, but their furtive
Stares and girlish giggles,
Their excited mutters,
Led him to believe it
Was he himself they were
Focused on, that their high
Spirits were latched on to,
But he discerned their kind,
Knew their game, he knew what
They were after, and slow
Sipping the last of his
Beer, gave them the wink and
Smile, got up from his stool
And at his slow Robert
Mitchum pace went out to
Rejoin the dejected
But all too human race.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
The dame smiled at him,
and Henry was pleased
and smiled back, entering
the café for his usual
morning latte, taking
with him that smile,
that memory glimpse of her,
hair, eyes, how full her
******* pouch, and placing
images captured into his mind,
for later revision, satisfaction
and musing mostly on her smile,
how seductive it seemed,
whether so or not he had
no idea, just a secret, guess
it could have been my dear.
The barista serves him his latte;
she too smiled, although less
seductively, he thought in
the inner scales of weighing
each to each, smile to smile.
Dames and smiles are Henry's food,
his means of getting through the day;
each man has his own way.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 4:22 AM UTC