this one goes out for the bomb in my face
her white lace has my heart strings tied
and she's dancing in front of me her peach
shows not a single spider, exploding sensations
dulling every sense but her touch brings home
back to me, she has me buying property
in a shit storm economy and i'm setting my flag
on the edge of how heroic our bodies feel together
bounce on the base of my lap, unbutton but button
my mouth before i accept dirty, pointless talk
i've got nothing but a few planes of isolation in my future
and the mortician's got too many bodies in the registry
i think it's a small world anyways, i disrespect
the dead by breathing air and writing poetry
about sex and cigarettes but i assume you're worth it
i've been in this spell for a long time but i think you're
the explosion to wreck it all up and restart again
YOU ARE READING
bang bang!
Poetryyou know what would be more cool than a blank white cover with text on it? a blank white cover with a toy pistol on it, of course!
