"aquatic" poems
she loved thunder storms most of all
the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky
the sheer immensity of power
she always thought it was him
her beloved God
big boy
Thor
with his flowing blond hair
blue aquatic eyes
washboard stomach
and delicately curved *****
finally a man good enough for her
even if he was fly by night
when the heavens thickened gray
like soggy cotton
she could feel atmospheres shift
it made her ******* pert
her mouth would salivate
like a lurid peach
her ***** swelled and dampened
tears of adoration and enchantment
filled her eyes
no longer able to contain her self
she would strip naked
fling off her *******
and run out to the lush verdant meadows
calling at the top of her lungs
yoooooooooo hooooooooooo
as the cool rain descended
she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes
seeing great claws of white lightening echo
through the sky
without hesitation
she fell to the cool earth beneath her
wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze
positioning her self on all fours
head thrown back
*** up high
calling to the heavens
come on, come on big boy
ive been waiting for you
let me have it good
her clitoral lips
drooled with anticipation
her ******
a pulsating aching
the sky rumbled
with stretching streaks of fire
like a great freight train
spanning infinity
while the earth shook like a
hollow moon
she swayed her hips
rhythmically to and fro
whispering a love song
*oh sir
i need a man like you
wont you love me
adorations true
i kneel before
my sweet Lord Thor
where's that hammer
come on and score
you are so big
and im so little
how about it God
just a tickle
hit it now
give it to me good
kisses baby
like only you could*
tears of desire cascaded
down her pink cheeks
as she recited her love mantra
her mouth naked wet
suddenly
a great bolt of lightening
shot down from heavens throne
entering her ******
splitting her in flames
her head turned dark mahogany
sent careening fifty yards
leaving her mouth
a yawning twisted smudge
of fossilized obsidian
with eyes
blackened flaring hollows
her tender pink ****
a charred flower
smoldering
like a
petite
grilled
calamari
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
~
Precious Padma
You dearest aquatic flower
You grew in murky waters
Unblemished by its impurity
But come they did
*To ****** your petals*
And leave you a burning stem
Never can they take from you
The spirit of your plainsong
It continues to grow in your sisters
And in a time and season so near
They will sing your hymn
As one substantial voice
The changing winds will then
Lift it higher
~
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 2:29 AM UTC
Hey Human! I am your Sibling.
Queen bee wings are Ripped,
bee niblings are Smoked
For Your Honey Sweet.
Hey human! Listen your Sibling’s Buzz.
Tiger lost bones for Medicine,
Fox lost fur for Fashion,
Sharks lost fins for Soup.
Hey human! Do Not Butcher Siblings.
Simba’s life is not your Trophy,
Jumbo’s tusks are not Decors,
Helmets of Hornbills are not jewels.
Hey human! Do Not Reap Siblings.
Emperors of ice continent lost land,
Economics is making Amazon less,
Logging makes Orangutans homeless.
Hey human! Do Not Invade Siblings.
Warm oceans bleach corals,
Water depleted in cities,
We ingest plastic regularly.
Hey human! Do Not Desert the Earth.
Overfishing is holocaust of aquatic life,
Livestock levitates toxic emissions.
Hey human! Do Not Prey on Siblings.
Lichens stunned by pollution,
Symbionts are disintegrating,
Biodiversity is declining.
Hey human! Be Together with Siblings.
Hey Human! We are Offsprings of Mother Nature.
Monera, Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protista
all have common roots.
We are branches of the one Phylogenetic Tree
rooting Common Ancestry unto LUCA.
Hey Human! We are Siblings.
Hey Human! Recall your Siblings.
Hey Human! Revive your Siblings.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
I. The Mermaid
I am six years old,
and I am obsessed with Ariel
from The Little Mermaid--
she is, by far,
my favourite Disney Princess.
I want to be exactly like her--
hair billowing in red swirls
around a heart-shaped face
and eyes so blue they put the very
ocean to shame
(my sister has blue eyes too, you know,
and, to this day, I still envy her,
for her eyes are the loveliest
characteristic of her Beauty--
and believe me, there are many);
purple clam shells vibrant
against porcelain-doll skin
and fully blossomed *******
(in three years from now,
I will begin
to grow *****
elementary-school style,
over-ripe.
B Cups going on C cups
fated to become D Cups,
plum-sized
in comparison to the
budding mosquito bites of
my fellow classmates.
Barely a child,
womanhood threatens
to sexualize my girlish body
before I truly know
what sexualization is);
fins cutting through the water
gracefully in all their
green, iridescent glory
(little did I know that,
as I grew older,
"cutting" would adopt
a far more sinister meaning
in the context of my life).
But,
despite my admiration for Ariel,
I fail to understand her desire
to abandon her
under-sea rendezvous,
sunken treasures,
oceanic melodies to
"be where the people are."
This lack of approval I foster
exists due to the fact that I am
a firm believer of the magic
the aquatic realm (and Disney)
has to offer.
To this day,
I continue to maintain my stance--
that Ariel had been terribly wrong
in the choices she made--
but I have become cognizant of
different (and better) reasons
to argue my position;
after all,
and as a cartoon crab
had so wisely declared once,
"The human world--
it's a mess."
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
A graceful water weaving dolphin
swirls wakes of gentle waves -
a white, silver blue phantom
shimmering in the noonday sun.
Piercing the surface,
she dances an aquatic ballet
of corkscrew pirouettes
and majestic somersaults.
Diving beneath the spray
she churns her engine upward -
soaring through the flaming hoop
to the "oohs" and applause
of a throng of short-sleeved hominids
bleachered beyond the rails.
Plunging into quiet depths,
she lingers for a moment
perhaps to recall the fresh sea air
and the borderless waters
in the golden days before the ships came.
January, 2007
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
*Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
Swim in the deepest part of the ocean,
With waves over head,
A life pieced by water,
A nautical life,
Or aquatic wonders,
There is no fear,
Living in fairytales,
Mithical creatures,
Sorrounding the waters,
Travel sea to sea,
Hopes disguised as flounders,
Surfers all above,
And here come the divers,
Ready to explore,
The kind I belong to,
Sing to them now,
They'll jump off from sails,
To follow the voice,
Deep in the waters,
Desperate souls,
Following as I speak,
Gullible minds,
When told to go under,
This siren awaits,
For sailors to wonder,
To bring them in deep,
In dangerous waters.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
I live by the water,
This lake is my home,
My nymph is aquatic,
It doesn’t like to roam,
My legs are weak and fragile,
Walking I can’t do,
But my wings are powerful,
They carry me across the blue,
High in the trees I glide,
My length cuts through the air,
I speed above the picnickers,
They don’t know I’m there,
I’m a Yellow-winged Darter,
Sympetrum flaveolum to my friends,
Watch me as I whizz on by,
Down the river-bend.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:57 AM UTC
Folds of water
Layers of dirt
Bubbling foam
A vast body
wrapping itself around the Earth
Schools of life
Clumps of Color
This is where it thrives
The souls of creatures
A potpourri of lives
The might of the ocean
The strength of the Sea
No one can match
No one could hardly believe
its ability
to devour kingdoms
Engulf islands and make them its own
Drag them down
Yank them by their legs, shatter their bones
Drag them down
Til they ultimately can descend no more
I can almost hear the primordial sea deity bellow
With a voice so deep
It shocks, explores
and shakes your soul
An immense
Deep bass tone.
It strikes more than just a powerful chord
“Come back to me”
“Return to your mother’s womb, down here, down low”
“You belong to me, my right, my property!”
“Return to the world below.”
“Come back home.”
Under the Sea
What's deep beneath?
The iridescent water
The clouds of foam
Conquered by monsters?
Down there,
Do sirens roam?
We aren't aware
We do not know
Enigmatic waves
Rows of fossils
Caked in dirt
A haven for aquatic raves
A museum holding remnants
telling the story of the Mother Earth
This is the Sea
Take a swim sometime and feel its rhythm
Listen to its story
Flow with the sea’s entrancing beat
I have faith and I believe
That the sea is a world of its own
Accentuated sometimes by its powerful voice or melodious hum
No less mighty than the world above.
Let's keep this beautiful wet world untouched
to keep it as it is, the world we love
©SHREYA DRISTI
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
"There are animals in the road"
the traffic reporter said
"We're not told what they are
find another route instead"
And so I got to wondering
though I wasn't going that way
what the mystery beasties were
that were on the road that day
Were they a herd of wildebeeste
who took a wrong turn on the veldt
or perhaps a wayward mule train
delivering some sacks of spelt
Maybe a team of trainee reindeer
diverted from the North Pole
or a bunch of llamas from Peru
that fell through a wormhole
Or bears, or wolves, or lions
could be zebras or kangaroos
surely not beached aquatic mammals
or elephants trumpeting the blues
Exotic beasts seemed unlikely though
it was more likely cattle or sheep
though it could have been migrating badgers
moving goalposts somewhere safe to keep
Cynthia Pauline Jones, 27/10/13
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
She speaks to me through Winter's night,
At the clash of fearless winds and tides.
Within whispers of memoired days that passed,
I find myself entangled in each others grasp.
Like a summer's day I forget the tomorrows,
Unworthy challenges, expectancies and sorrows,
Letting go of my anger and unattended pain,
Her whispers are the only things that keep me sane.
I close my eyes to the sound of aquatic gusts,
Invisioning the days we've spent sharing eachother's lust.
Through a swirl of thought I sit beside you,
With petals of flowers falling upon each shoe.
My arm grips you tight as if hanging for salvation,
Yet still we hold a certain fear of confrontation.
We path our way with big and small footsteps,
Through unearthed soil, we silently crept.
The view was shallow; yellow with blue,
I gazed my eyes upon this priceless view.
Amongst an ocean of grass and rooted flowers,
Lay a lonely rose, purveying endless thorn-showers.
How risky and deep and precious the thought,
That within grass and sunflowers, a rose has been brought.
My hands reach to grip, but my eyes twinge with pain,
A sudden push through my lungs, and rush through my veins.
I wake up confused, my dream disappears,
But you my gray rose, you're always right here.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
floating on
the pond
dragonflies zip
above me
thinking I
am an
organic substance
an algae-dipped
nympth
my hair in fronds
the subtle ripple
of sunstreak
on thigh
like reflections of
rainbow lanterns
upon skin
my skin, puckered
from melding
aquatic escapade
is soothed in this home
of kissing koi
who welcome me
in fin brushes
bubbles on the
small
of my back
sweet as the
lush harmony
of waterlily voices
that only I can hear
as the gaze of frogs
and forest dwellers
imprints upon
the inner lids
of my
starlit
eyes
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Far narwhaled
silly monkey speared
aquatic creature cucumbered
another mammal tonight
On the fishing boat,
they reeled in both bodies
the monkey frozen solid
narwhal flapping harmlessly
They asked the monkey how it happened
his reply was this:
So they took his wide-eyed frozen stare
as for an admission of guilt.
his shock spoke volumes like
a speaker being blown out.
Tonight, the sailors drink moonshine.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or
some northerly harbor of Labrador,
before he became a schoolteacher
a great-uncle painted a big picture.
Receding for miles on either side
into a flushed, still sky
are overhanging pale blue cliffs
hundreds of feet high,
their bases fretted by little arches,
the entrances to caves
running in along the level of a bay
masked by perfect waves.
On the middle of that quiet floor
sits a fleet of small black ships,
square-rigged, sails furled, motionless,
their spars like burnt match-sticks.
And high above them, over the tall cliffs'
semi-translucent ranks,
are scribbled hundreds of fine black birds
hanging in n's in banks.
One can hear their crying, crying,
the only sound there is
except for occasional sizhine
as a large aquatic animal breathes.
In the pink light
the small red sun goes rolling, rolling,
round and round and round at the same height
in perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,
while the ships consider it.
Apparently they have reached their destination.
It would be hard to say what brought them there,
commerce or contemplation.
3.7k
She might laugh if she read this
at the flat little version of her
that lives in my mind.
She may laugh
at my comparison of her
to a hideous sea spider
but hear me out
it could be touching.
David Foster Wallace wrote:
*“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience
we do not have direct access
to anyone or anything’s pain but our own;
and even just the principles
by which we can infer that others experience pain
and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain
involve ******** philosophy—
metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.”
*"[Lobsters] do have an exquisite tactile sense,
one facilitated by hundreds of thousands of tiny hairs
that protrude through their carapace.
Although encased
in what seems a solid, impenetrable armour,
the lobster can receive stimuli and impressions from without
as readily as if it possessed a soft and delicate skin.”*
and so
“We lift lobsters out of the bag
or whatever retail container they came home in
…whereupon some uncomfortable things start to happen.
However stuporous the lobster is from the trip home, for instance,
it tends to come alarmingly to life when placed in boiling water."*
As much as I cannot comprehend the pain
of the exquisitely tactile lobster
in a *** of boiling water,
I wonder if I could
walk a mile in a lobster’s 8 minuscule shoes
and I wonder
what it might mean or not mean to her
with her armoured yet acute exoskeleton
to be back at home with her father.
They might try to butter you up
or snap elastic bands
around your oversized claws
and use a wooden spoon
to try and nudge your thrashing, clinging arms
back into the ***
but remember:
lobsters can live to be over 100 years old
and grow to over 20 pounds in size
which is very large for an aquatic insect
and remember that they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws.
And DFW famously said,
“Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”
and he's not a lobster either
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Taking Flight
Soar Off The Ground
And We Were Lost To Be Found
Fly Above Commotion
Fueled By Emotion
Transition To The Ocean
An Abyss
Of Bliss
Because The Sky I Kissed
Let Me Drowned
There Was No Sound
Just A Geometric Playground
Dissipate Now
To Euphoric Dust
Empathy
And LSD
Ritually
Taken So Compassionately
Passionately
Lucid
Confused By This
Cosmic Dream
Tore From The Seams
Pathless
But I Let Go Of This
Let Go
Just To Flow
To Melodic Assumptions
Melody Had Me Elated
The Light Sensation
Liquid Creations
Creating Aquatic
Sounds Of The Sonic
Vibrations
Vibrating
Dilating
Pupils Dilated
And It Reflects Back To Me
Reflect The Patterns To My Moves
And I Move With The Motion
Loved And Infinite.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC
In Battalion,
Misery is served in a thousand ways.
Misery is served in buckets of rain
and hours of wind.
Unyielding, soul-sucking cold and wet.
Porous jungle boots that invite the frigid water in and soften your feet for a relentless 30 mile march.
Misery is served in a stifling aircraft flying Nap of the Earth.
A nauseating rollercoaster ride that never fails to elicit
chain reaction vomiting from the paratroopers rigged to jump.
Misery is served at pool PT
When your arms and legs feel like lead
and drowning is a better alternative
than the aquatic torture that you’re enduring.
Misery is served during blistering Company runs
led by the Commander
who was a college decathlete.
Runs where the strongest of us
pulled aside, emptied our stomachs,
and rejoined the formation.
Misery is served by no warning alerts
separating families and lovers
for indefinite periods,
sometimes forever.
Misery is served by the Spec 4 Mafia
Unleashing Hell on new Rangers
testing their threshold for ****
Misery is served by road marches, prickly heat,
Black Palm, and sawgrass. It’s served by desert heat,
Arctic cold, and the stench of the world’s worst places.
Misery is served by the loss of brothers in war and training,
gone too soon to join the Great Ranger in the Sky.
Through it all, misery hardened my body and strengthened my soul.
It made me a warrior and ushered me into a Brotherhood that will be with me until we all sit at the great table in Valhalla.
So on this Veteran’s Day
Embrace the ****
Endure the pain
Invite the Misery
For that’s what makes us
Men amongst Men
Rangers Lead The Way.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
drought dry only a fortnight, and no trace
of the swimmers--not a bloated bass or a skeletal carp
only a few lily pads burnt russet by the sun
all else, perverse interlopers from modernity:
bullet banged beer cans, truck tires,
and the ubiquitous bottle water plastic
waiting patiently for the next ice age
no sign of one fish that emitted a last gilled gasp here
deep beneath the bed though
progenitors rest, theirs and ours,
antediluvian, Permian, as permanent as the word allows
my footfalls above them today
tomorrow silent where they lay
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
an aquatic plant
flower syrup for bad coughs
the lotus flower
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
*i hate to break it to you kid,
i'm not mindful of narcissus'
economics that's all oh so very modern...*
but women are their own orbit,
more chance to find a single mother
than a single father...
it's against nature to make the man
without god,
as it's against nature to make the woman
with god...
thus we have the tectonic plates
making man with god, accepting
or doubting, church or laboratory...
and woman... an eroticism of jaw eaten
faces... but a kiss to be a fingerprint
likened to erasing the dangling of the bitten
jaw... erased only once by the aphrodisiac of sirens'
wail of aquatic opera so damnable that only
one man heard it, while others scolded
being in audience with beeswax...
and by second chance, erased, indeed,
but only by the suffragettes as the new nuns...
as the new nuns dare comply to change,
like every male become female and
vice versa,
and the popes disclose their continual
loss of matrimony in their misogynistic
involvement in ****** if i'm not the pope
and do no encounter such practices,
i'm not a pope at all!
*only a ninth spoke as the necromancer,
and of the nine spoke clearest,
as it spoke, it dawned on me
that sauron was invisible for the sword
to strike, a gravity enveloping,
a gravity envelope, rather than a skin
of infinite diadem sharpenings,
for nine rigs unto men,
seven unto dwarfs, three unto elves,
but none unto the orcs... strange....
ORC ARKHAN MORDOR ARRAC!*
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Do you see that oil spill?
that never stops and seems to fill
and tarnish the beautiful calm,
that realm of water...
the spill isn't stopping, no, no, no
How far up will the numbers go?
Nothing seems to help, the fish are slaughtered,
brought to die from human hands and their mistakes,
****** into the aquatic band
that is tainted by that reddish murky goo.
The animals hide with fear,
for they, only they, can softly hear,
the crying songs of the fallen
that tear through the deep blue.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
They say we have these anchors
They drown us out at sea
But this chain bound tight to my ankle
Is not fastened to a weight.
It just keeps going
Link by link
It has no end
No beginning
I was born into this aquatic life
From my earliest days
I was held underwater
And each day on has added to my chain
Not like the chain of Jacob Marley
In Dickens' tale,
Not forged by greed
But birthed from every thought
That I cannot forget
And every blow to my persistance
I have ever recieved
It all stays with me
And we each have these chains.
But most grow gills
And sprout fins.
And learn to swim .
But here I am.
Still drowning.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
1348
Lift it—with the Feathers
Not alone we fly—
Launch it—the aquatic
Not the only sea—
Advocate the Azure
To the lower Eyes—
He has obligation
Who has Paradise—
2.7k
**** You!
I'm tired of yo tendencies,
It's funny how quick-a-ly,
Ya best friend can become you're enemy,
I could only count on you for disappointment,
Drowning in your in your sorrows, hopin' I can make you buoyant,
With all the dudes that burned you I'm supposed to be ya ointment,
Dependent on me to be ya clairvoyant,
Help you with your problems the second, a text ends in a question,
And mine goes unreplied, every time, I'm neglected,
Then when I cut you out of my life, you contest it,
You're a self indulged user that's why I am steppin',
But I still got mixed feelins like a malloto,
I'll never let you know because of my bravado,
And the though of you got me chuggin' on Moscato,
'Till the bottle hollow,
And I forget ya name tomorrow,
Yet your attraction is an addiction I relapse in,
I'm conflicted 'cause this contradiction got me distracted,
Reminiscent on kissin' lips n satisfaction,
And then you flipped it like an improper fraction,
Oh, and ya know I hate math,
Delete ya out my fone like ***** ***** take that!"
Pretend ya someone I don't know like, "Chick stay back."
Feelins are like secrets so I keep 'em till my safe cracked,
And for you I opened up,
Tellin' each other things that are too deep to touch,
Don't know what I coulda done to keep you but,
If I ever see you, I'll run on pins and needles just,
To escape,
You're my problem so I get drunk to get away,
Then get high enough to look at you with disdain,
Knowin' no aquatic life can survive in your fish tank,
Playin' hopscotch with the line,
Between love and hate, I think I finally picked a side,
I said I'm playin' hopscotch with the line,
Between love and hate, I think I finally picked a side...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC