deepundergroundpoetry.com

Let it slide.

What's up with the words she's spilling?
Just like the pills she's popping,
I'm not going to butter this up.
I don't want to.
Personal opinion, right to free speech.
You can all be swept up in a rosy cloud of smoke,
me? I'd rather choke - on the facts.
None of them are going to believe it though,
these words come from one who knows,
wanting, throw two-hundred at a problem,
three homes, three packets of blood,
Mud, fast, you got the lot,
but let me buy you a drink,
fill it with arsenic,
watch you fall,
I'm not fruiting,
no citrus here,
do that tequila fresh and clean,
and when we're done back to the house,
so we can all listen to your moan,
damn I know what it's like to moan,
but the deep stuff I keep to myself,

lose the house,

lose the car,

lose the man,

lose the sister,

fuck the father,

fuck the grandfather,

lost the babe,

lost all dignity,

it's alright,
I'm gonna smile,
because you have no idea,
comprehend this:



And if not, sugar
just drink up,
I need another tequila,
need another pill,
need another word - or five
to stomach you.[/font]
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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