"forwarded" poems
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
Time is repetition
As I watch from the couch
“He won’t last the weekend,”
Says Hospice
“They said he might not last the weekend,”
Says Dauson
He’s stronger than they know,
I say
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
False hope, of course
I can see the way
The cancer fights
Deceiving the guards
Hiding and attacking
Slowly taking what’s theirs
Slowly killing,
Spreading down towards the
Ground then rocketing up
Until his psyche
Dissipates into nothing
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
“Go hunting, it’s opening day,”
He says
They listen
But only because
He yells at them to
She goes out to smoke
My grandma with my grandpa’s killer
“Can you pick Dauson up?”
Says Mom to Tracy
Keith’s mother,
Mother of my brother’s “brother”
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then Frosting
I know it’s coming
Yelling it’s arrival
Like the steady beat of a beating drum
I’m surprised
That no one else
Can hear it
That no one else
Can feel it
Permeating the air
The shadows reaching out
With tendrils made of cold
Made of smoke
Made of death’s sweet kiss
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
Time is fast forwarded
Laying him down on the bed
“Melissa’s almost here,
The boys are almost here”
And then time stops for a moment
He’s facing me
Eyes closed, mouth parted
A single tear that is his own
Freezes on his cheek
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
You asked what changed
Me the most?
What made me who
I am today?
A grave stone
A wooden cross
Seeing a man die slowly
Day after day
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
Was so fragile-
She could be cut by callused palms.
Could be bruised-
With the stroke of her makeup brush.
Lays so sound-
She could wake up to the car door slamming in the garage.
She is so thin-
Light shines not just through her eyes-
But through her chest, hips, lips, and-
No warmth is transferred through her kiss.
She breaks like hardened mud.
You could sink into her like quicksand.
Her body, is built like a storm.
You can watch the blood in her veins-
Meet your fingers at the surface-
You can still see what you have drawn in the morning-
If you can even crawl out of bed to crack the blinds.
She likes thunderstorms.
She likes the smell of dirt.
Her eyes were gray-
And her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.
She can dance in the sun-
clumsily-
And still be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
She could sing-
Off key-
But her emotion is what makes those notes gold.
She lays like stone.
She moves like running glass fast forwarded.
Her voice is thunder-
And her eyes are the winter.
She lays hands on you-
Only to heal.
She can mend you-
as easy as bending a wire coat hanger.
Her skeleton is like flint-
How it sparks against mine.
Her body is so fragile-
A word could hurt her.
and a stick or stone-
would certainly **** her.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
They walk beside me
always late for something.
Quickening loafers
compete against themselves
emphasising their importance.
Go!
Choking on their breath
in an over-zealous attempt to identify
What's freedom?
This fastened reality
Punctures inner peace
my energy disperses
Like a balloon buzzing as it loses momentum.
When did Life become a marathon?
When will I decide where I want to be?
Conversations shout themselves out..
an energetic argument before their words reach the air..
Will you ever confront your disguised pains?
My mind's elsewhere..
I'm trying to figure out
the last time I saw your body unclench itself.
And i'm a little confused,
because I don't know whether to accept your denial
or
continue to disconnect from reality.
And I question,
If we all mirror eachother, what part of myself cannot find peace in you?
I observe this anxiety in motion
stuck forever in a hurry
leading itself down roads that end where they began.
And I wonder,
*If their legs were to rest
would they have to pick their head up from the floor?*
Like buddhas in a city,
their lives are a fast forwarded tomorrow
as the present hurries along.
And I ponder,
Does the truth stop blinding when silence doesn't teach?
A quickening motion
Changing with every step.
Acceleration..
human race...
Go!
Chasing of thy death..
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
The following statements of truth were brought to you
Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters
Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative
Mechanisms that formally give birth to ********
And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with
Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic,
Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real:
The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast
To follow is to snap the head backward,
Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit
And open gates to deluging tangled circular
Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat.
We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors
Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error
In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where
The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed.
One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms.
For the record, it shall be noted that civil society
Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine
To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors
That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work
And make benefactors of those complicit in crime.
As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe
Nations signing trade agreements aligned with
Selling more of the goods whose extractions have
Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist.
Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions.
The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear
Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death.
Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity,
And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide.
As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak
I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
come on darling take a chance with us
our meat is on the seams of a blue-blooded funeral
a **** body burial, and the volcanoes laugh
the thumbs shake
as the fingers dance
makes the rain pull its roots on
for the showcase the generic plants
will perform a feral routine
every **** a command-stop forwarded
the nucleus inside of a vitrified half-assed colon
and if they shiver they will find their saw
tailored to the head of that aurulent god
a caterpillar reads the braille and follows my wrist
he condescends, and breaks notions causing new alarm
they are all special, green feet and orange sinewy lines
he casts his blame he curses across the myriad storms
gold minarets in the distance
serpents living under man-made rocks
counting down the seconds on armageddon's clock
a lion counts his livestock
he puts his socks on, he wears a headdress
in the shape of a flame
just outside the shadows of an autumn day
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. [Katherine] is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up, or press "1" for more options. [Beep]
Katherine, please, pick up the phone. I'm sorry that I keep calling, I know you probably don't wanna talk to me, but please answer. I can't just sit on the sidelines anymore. I haven't seen you smile in weeks, and some days, I don't even see you. I can't approach you without you turning and walking away quickly. You're isolating yourself, and I'm really worried. Please, answer my calls, please talk to-
Are you still there? To end your message, press "1." To continue recording, press "2." To hear more- [Beep]
At the tone, please continue your message. [Beep]
Everyone's talking about it. I've seen posts on the internet, heard people gossiping about it, even the teachers have brought you up. It has felt wrong not having you around, not seeing you doodling in your notebook during class, or walking down the nature paths admiring the trees. Everyone else doesn't seem to feel the same way I do. They know, but they don't seem to care. Maybe that's what made you think that nobody cared.
God, I miss you so-
You will be disconnected in thirty seconds. [Beep]
The funeral was today. I was one of the few from our school who actually came. I tried to give your family my condolences, and I started to choke when your mother began to cry. God, the whole thing was hard; hearing family members tell stories, seeing you lay there motionless. I was happy they put you in a long sleeved dress. I didn't want everyone to see that part of you; not that it matters much, because everyone knows that is how you died.
Everyone left an hour ago. I've been sitting by your tombstone watching the sun fall into the ground. I keep hoping that you are somehow hearing these messages, that you'll call me back any minute. I'm not sure how the cell service is six feet underground, but I'm still hoping. I'll always be hoping. People will be moving on, but all I can do is choke on my words and I yell into a dead girls voice mail.
I'm sorry, Katherine. I'm so so-
You will now be disconnected. Goodbye. [Beep Beep Beep]
...
I'm sorry. This number is disconnected, or no longer in service. Goodbye. [Beep Beep Beep]
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
In an age of persecution
When Christians died
For their beliefs
Apostle John wrote
Revelation
To encourage and
Bring relief
First century folk
Who held Jesus' tenants
Were martyred in
Most horrid ways
But John wrote about
His coming
Christ described the
End of Days.
The early faithful
Found their solace
In the Gospel
Sweet & pure
The Bible's WORD
Was ever spoken
And its precepts
Still endure
Modern man cannot
Believe it
Because he has
A hardened heart
But when tribulation
Finds him
Rest assured he'll come apart!
So we put our trust in Jesus?
IS He simply "fairy tale"?
Why did Christians
Sing their hearts out
When lit on fire and impaled?
How could they endure
Having their heads drilled
Molten lead then poured within?
How could could they
Be so calm & joyous
When lions tore them
Limb from limb?
Their contemporaries
Could not believe it!
When Christ was preached
It was received!
The Gospel forwarded
By each man dying
By their blood
The folk believed!
Now Christian people
Won't mention Jesus!
They give sin a little wink!
They're afraid of persecution
By caring what the
Lost may think!
Wake up, folks!
The toast is burning!
Give witnessing
The college try!
There are hearts
Who're out there yearning!
Cap'n Crunch waves us goodbye!
I may get flack
For this assertion
I may get comments
For to spare
I may get called
A backward person
People... I don't really care!
If I don't warn of
God's Judgment
Tribulations in this land
I'm not a Watchman on
The Wall here
And
your blood is on my hands!
I'll read & preach
From Revelation
The ending always
Helps us cope
Read the outcome
Of our suffering
It will give ETERNAL HOPE.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/27/2017
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC
Is it my counter-counterclockwise
mind wasting time? Elbows
on the dining table pulling my angel
hair into grid-like times tables.
I’m invested in this non-conversation
table. Ich liebe dich, mein Freund.
I’ve got commitment issues and four-ply
tissues for when my eye lashes start
peeling apart. My grandpa died in 2005
and I’m all but over it. I’m holding
his kite string, but the reel is almost done,
like VHS tapes rewound then fast-forwarded
to the good times. Power Ranger birthday
and everyone’s wearing dunce caps
with elastic chin straps ‘til they snap.
Snap! Snap! Snap me back to three-years-old,
and I’m singing in a Robin costume
‘cause I knew I’d always be second best.
I had an identity crisis around fourteen,
so I stopped buying sunglasses
because I found myself in other
peoples’ shadows. But now the only shadows
they’re casting are the ones from their headstones
and from the fields of flowers cradling
them like they once cradled me.
Fast-forward, I’m genuflecting in gym shorts
before myself in a mirror smudged with plum
felt. And I seem small compared to my life
spelled out in Expo marker markings.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
One must suffer for beauty
But not in this self-destructive fashion
Maybe after we put ourselves out there
They'll worship at the pedestal
Some skewed mindset of what glamour highlights
Re-invent yourself
Not innovate another's identity
We're just templates
left to be traced by another
Who wants to be the photocopied poster child?
She just wants out
You can't blame her for exploiting herself
This was after the sext messages
Sent to his phone
forwarded to all his friends
sent to all their friends
inevitably the internet
Girl's got a sickness about her
She wants to go viral
Starving for attention
Starving herself for perfection
Caught somewhere between ascension of ego
and descension of the soul
She's lost like a lighter in a smoke circle
Won't somebody spark the way?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
I will let you inside
Rent space in my head
and I'll take heed and make an attempt
To conquer whatever it is about me that you spend so much time devaluing
And when you're in there, would you kindly mind shutting off whatever longings and needs I may have
Just flip that switch and tie a rope to it that extends to a nail in the ground
And cancel whatever subscription I have to the "Pity Party" hotline
Make sure it is forwarded to you
For you deserve all the pity and sympathy for having to endure me
Go ahead and stab out whatever cortex may be responsible for my behavior towards you
**** it and bury it and don't be manipulated by it like you were in the past
Stuff me full of you-loving and you-respecting ingredients
Fashion me into the sort of a person you could love
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
Channeling
Every emotion
To a setting
Where they
Do not
Will not
Can not
Be forwarded
For people to see
Subconsciously
Assuming that
The whole
World
Knows when
I'm
Mad
Devastated
Furious
For some ******
Up reason
That is unknown
To me
But if a detailed
Word
Isn't spilt
About the matter
Then nobody
Honestly
Knows such
Feelings
Are being felt
Thinking people
Can look hard enough
Care deep enough
See through me
Expecting too much
But expectation
Should be higher
Not from those
Of others
But of myself
Dealing with emotional
Confrontation
Is something
I cannot handle
Everything in me
Will push it away
Hide it away
Never speak a
Word
About it
But why?
Acting like a
Five year old
Instead of being
Forward
Upfront
And
To the point
Why is it so hard
To speak a mind's
Emotional struggles
Finding words
Or explanations
Is an impossible
Task for my tongue
To master
I'm stubborn
I'm miserable
I'm attention hungry
I'm self conscious
I know I'm all these things
But
Is
There
A way
To change
Those
Parts
Of
Me
When
It's
Who
I
Am?
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Death Is A Depth... Life Is A Miseries.!!!
Isn't it strange how $500 seems like such a large amount when we give it as offering, but such a small amount when you go shopping?
Isn't it strange how 2hrs seem so long when you're at place of Worship, and how short they seem when we're watching a good movie?
Isn't it strange that we can't find a
Word to say when we're to make
supplication to God, but we have no trouble thinking of what to gist about with a friend.?
Isn't it strange how Difficult and Boring it is to read one chapter of the Scriptures, but how easy it is to read 100 pages of a popular novel or magazine?
Isn't it strange how everyone wants front-row-tickets to concerts, film house or games, but they do whatever is possible to sit at the last row in the Holy gathering?
Isn't it strange how everyone wants a place in Paradise, but they don't want to Believe, Do, or Say anything to get there?
Isn't it strange how we send jokes in e-mails, BBM,Whatsapp, Facebook, Google, Globalshare, Youtube, Twitter, Linked-In,BC and
they are forwarded right away, but
when we are going to share messages about GOD, we think about it twice before we share it with others?
IT'S STRANGE, ISN'T IT? Now that you've read this message, forward it to anybody that we both consider a Friend. Let us build up Our Spiritual Life because its very Necessary.. I strongly believe, that GOD will Strengthen Ours more than a Soul. What breaks my
heart most, is that many
Mode And Made in the
Church Of Thy body will not make it if Jesus
comes now? Many are unaware
that the
End is Near.! If any Area of Our
Life is not in sync with GOD's Word
Repent
and be converted. If we miss
Heaven we can never miss
Hell...Think about
it. Hell is not a pretty place that I want I and I to go to, the
worst part is that it is for
Eternity...Please
rather than post and forward
Wordless messages. Send to
everyone that thy Love. Do the work of an
Evangelist. PLEASE SHARE THIS
MESSAGE WITH
ALL YOUR CONTACTS. Have you
ever wondered what would have
happened if we treat the Holy
Bible the way we treat our mobile
phone?☎
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
I do not claim to represent.
I humbly present my claim.
_______________________(Begin Forwarded Message) _______________________
3 April 2014
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
RE: present
To whom it may concern:
I have been subscribed
To your service
Involuntarily.
Two springs ago there was an anniversary.
An old friend tempted me
Under the guise of celebration.
That is not to say
There weren’t suspicious omens about;
Oh, what I would give
To have heeded them!
I’m afraid you provide
A service which far surpasses my needs
(Such that it is the only thing I want).
Your free trial led me to believe
Led me
To the promised land
Only to enslave me there.
The fertile grasslands,
The forests, and the island shores
Mock me in my imagination.
Your service has been
deemed surplus.
The benefits
no longer
justify
the cost.
_______________________(End Forwarded Message) _______________________
I humbly present my claim.
I do not claim to represent.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Faded fixations of foretimes fallen
Formally frustrated from forwarded fantasies
I visualize future fortunes forged from a forgotten flutter of flukes...
Founders folley forbids foreign flourishing
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Forwarded impact
Tampering with instructions
Designed to distract
Simple extraction
Of a words retraction
Windowed to sounds
When insanity surrounds
Where can I find
Where they draw the line
Intimately confined
To the criminally designed
Rebellion to the failed
Melting the walls
Of those jailed
Bored in governing planets
Murderous, supernova
We now live
In blundering expansion
Forwarded impact
Tampering with instructions
Designed to distract
Jan 7, 2010
Jan 7, 2010 at 7:00 AM UTC
you do not know art, like i know Art.
though you paraded your passings in public
it was i who, Art, trusted with his secrets
it was my window, that Art, tapped when the arguing began
yes, you may have enjoyed a dinner or engaged in conversation with him
but he never trusted you with paintings of the english language
or pictures worth a thousand songs
you didnt get 6 stitches, with Art, when you tried to climb the tallest tree
to reach out and touch heaven but still fear the fall
you didnt find Art trembling in a bathroom from what he saw
that day. You didnt find Art in broad daylight dancing
to some invisible meter, some transparent beat
you didnt see the patterns left in the steps of his feet
and while you may have gone to the cinema with Art
it was i he forwarded the scripts
to reenact a lifetime of moments
because we, Art and i, wanted a silver lining
something vague, something inspiring
to keep this momentum going
and while you claim to know this being, Art
you have not participated in a drunken brawl
with Art, involving a few rotten Connecticut men
and things not in our control
you haven't discussed eternity and death
with Art, or any of his close friends
and though, i'm sure you may have wish you did
you do not know art, like i do.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
I am an ocean
Powerful in waves
I crash into anything that stands in my way
I have no heart
And I have no soul
I have already sank an entire graveyard
Of ships that were once great feats
Don't worry,
For you have no fear
You're just the captain
On a ship I held dear
You will sink beneath my waves
For that's what I do
I am a possessive being
And I'm not ready to give up you
You will die
Here in my reefs
And allow my fish
To home in your grief
And that's were you'll be
Another lost century
That's what's happens when people look to close to me
They lean a little to forwarded
And crash into me
And my waves has no mercies
For those sailing to get through me
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
The children of this town speak of vacation and travel.
Worrying about the summer before it's even Spring.
I tell them, "why, why, why are you
LEAVING here before you've fulfilled your night-
time fantasy?"
They board a train or ship uncoothed and begging for more time.
I tell them "the ones you want are here already, in your being. They are
present and ready to be called out of the closets and crawlspaces of your dwellings,
looking for the belongings
you forwarded them in the shape of skin and grain and blood."
I tell them "Alone you leave this city and your self returns with you,
empty, even emptier than at birth. This city is your womb,
you can't escape the placental waters of your home,
the umbilical rail, the breathing air."
But when it is summer, they go. To be gone, to starve
the children in the closets clawing at
the fastened latch and watching time escape their follicles.
While they are sitting in darkness, we tell them we left to get away, to catch a sky
that crashes into distant lands or hold up
stars with out bare hands.
We say "bless this city and the state of our birth."
We stand, alive, unconquered and surprised that closet children are dead when we get back
it's just us in this city
With all stars surrounding
Unseen with the same lights
We saw out there which blot them out
The sky has fallen and our hands are cleaned
By the starving blood of closet children
Whom we refused to feed
Dried up under the moon.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
I feel I go in slow motion
Until
My brain has
Fast Forwarded
myself into
beyond the end of my life.
The eternity that haunts
my beating heart.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
a) I …like you.
b) Letters and postcards are amongst strawberry lemonade cupcakes and kisses on foreheads. You know why? Simply because to read those letters or postcards and to know that their hand once brushed the page, its warmth kissed each word. With truth leeching it into the coldness. But nevertheless, it was warm. To know that each stroke, each cross out was directly from their mind and from them.
And most importantly, their heart.
That each full-stop, each comma, each word and alphabet is all yours. No one else’s.
It can't be forwarded like a blank, generic email.
The letter itself was once something of theirs
and then now its yours forever to keep.
A little piece of their time and most importantly, them.”
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
This psychosis is flaring up again, most notably with the upper hand
Time after time and once again I find no rhyme or reason
That thought process, seemingly by design, is unfathomably barren
Scared of the transformation I know has already left the station
That's it there, right over yonder, comin' 'round the bend
Resistance is futile, it's a lesson in repetition to keep runnin' with no traction
No huntin' license needed for this "only fools rush in" expedition
The lethal weapon method preferred over the non-lethal stun gun option
As I set up and execute my own personal character assassination
And blame it on what's always been a continuous open season on who I am as a person
Stating it was the residents in my cranium livin' rent free from conception
Leaving out the moment I stepped in and fast forwarded this Scooby Doo-Benny Hill situation to the end
You can still see the evidence of the all out mutiny and treason from within
Venomous hospitality, venomous quips, blue lips the reaction to the poison
The exact one found on the jagged edge of the rusty iron driven into broken skin
Just an oh to familiar back stabbing incident, another rerun
A web can be spun but I'm the only common thread...
©2024
Jan 21, 2024
Jan 21, 2024 at 1:29 PM UTC
a million seasons
could pass
and for the last mass on a very special sunday in the fall
for just a few seconds
if you listen carefully down the halls
the white and black keys press firmly on the grand piano in the center of us all
as you slowly sip the gin'
you begin to obviously grin
a smirk a smile short about a mile to thiin
i breathe your scent
masked under **** and cigarette buds
your the one my hearts requesting
forwarded with a can i have my turn again
life doesnt care
-
Unfortunettly theres no return policy.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 11:18 PM UTC
I was duped last night
By the Transgenders beggers
Most of the time I ignore them
As if I never saw them
But last night
I was a little scared
As I knew I had money in my wallet
For no reason I stopped
And they forwarded towards me
Asking me for money
I somehow thought that poor people
They have no place in the society
So they beg
Not fair that people neglect them
So took out little money and gave them
To my shock, they wanted to see how much more money I had
They kept saying they would just keep a coin
Took out the whole bunch of money
And I kept saying No,
Don't take
Don't take.
I have no more money
But 3 of them in agressive voices
Kept telling me
They will keep the money back
Swearing in the name of God
I was not leaving the money
Until I saw them being more agressive towards me
I left the money
And they took and kept again
Obviously I knew half the money won't be there
But I was scared
As everyone was just a mere audience
I had to save myself
Money I can get back
But thought if they attack me
That might be more tragic.
They folded the Money and kept back and questioning me in more agressive voices-
Why don't you trust us?
Why don't you trust us?
They left after that
And I left the opposite side
Checking my wallet
They took more than half the money
And left little money for me.
A lesson learnt, during hard times
Nobody comes to rescue
Rather I have to be extra careful.
I was scared the whole night
I know people would laugh at me
Saying why did I stop there
Or take out my wallet in the first place.
I didn't plan for all these
Just thought may be being helpful might be good.
Duped as I was.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
misplaced letters; misplaces trust
the world dines on their wanton lust
wandering footsteps, weakened by bottle glass.
I hurry up , so I won't be last.
Screaming
no glory
Dreaming
outscoring
forwarded footsteps and unopened mail,
left out in the barrenness, the terse winter Gael.
what should I do ?
what can't I see ?
left all alone
burdened by me.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:07 AM UTC
Bound to adjust in a clusterfuck of lust
as i grow older my brain bends backwards sending the past and what i knew forward
farther than i remember sense memories are limited to their makers remarks.
I am left with a mantra of many, to be forwarded and returned upon what ive learned.
and if you ask me ill stay in my pose
asking that my posse surround and inclose
what is left of my lust
is for you to dream and impose
upon what i allow you to take and propose.
because i know you enough to know what you want
and what you want is simple enough.
The power
The fame
The money
The blame
I leave you with lust and memories to shame.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 6:37 AM UTC