1082 0 0
|
In se'enties style serenading strut
A passin all the pretty birds in kin',
The feathered Stetson ‘clipsin crimson suit,
A whistlin Dixie blues ‘cross county-lines.
|
135000
|
The palm trees bent upon her passing stride
From fishnet stockings running up her hide;
|
600
|
Our bodies tender heat in darkness, damp
with sweat to oil each stroke in slow caress;
beyond our glow the buried deliquesce.
We are the flame held captive in the lamp.
|
112100
|
Locked at the highest rung
Unable to budge at all
|
120600
|
woke up to the sound of a diesel
looked out the window to see i’m not home
outta bed to see if you had called
not a damn thing on my phone
|
96100
|
When not enough is left to utterThe syllables it takes to say,Goodbye--Disassembled and developed,Laid upon the ground,Like the girded gridlockOn your smog befitted brow...Goodbye.And what if I said, hello?What if I said, good day?Would it change your sunken bodyAnd repair…
|
117852
|
jaws blossoming with drool,/ a captured wolf slinks low/ across the crowded land/ for that most tender lamb/ to catch it by surprise.
|
131333
|
artemis is but a mincing fawn:/ no sacred bitches need i in my ranks,/ nor hunting dogs to tear a man apart/ when i have teeth enough to bruise fine flanks.
|
1057103
|
’m sure they have their/
cleverest working on it, though.
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