A bite is all I need to feel
to remind me that I’m real.
The same thing, or something new,
curbing the fall that tastes the pavement.
Morally I’m no angel
with a heart just as dark.
Disturbed by wo/men,
destroyed by magazines.
You make me disgusting,
You made my skin cry.
Mimes acted twisted,
I wake with rust coloured legs.
Too much vodka and blood for a Sunday.
Come tomorrow I’ll still remember my P’s and Q’s,
there’s no excuse for gut reactions,
the conversation makes you look ugly.
No comments:
Post a Comment