deepundergroundpoetry.com
Furry tails have happy endings.
Furry tails have happy endings.
I'm dripping, with the black liquid you dropped, from your paint pot,
on my head, from two storeys high, or stories,
like the tales you told me in the early hours of day, or tails,
like the animal that brushes it's way around my heels so affectionately. It heals.
The pain that you feel when the mental wind sweeps you up and everything seems ten times worse.
Pane, the window pane I looked through waiting for a father who would never love me
and I threw, threw away the only present he had given me, my blonde hair, but I am present here.
This is not another story, you need hear about a sad, little girl and her poor lack of daddy.
The rain pours, the sun shines, the world continues spinning and I just move with it.
My son, the one who would have stood in the moon knowing his mum loved him.
Keep mum.
No one can see the secrets we buried with an entire family,
know that I am a mystery,
my words can trick and tantalise you like a sea,
lapping you up and drowning you before you even know it's coming.
Cuming, to my own hand, for no one's there to ease that burden,
two bodies grinding together, sell the image, a little longer,
like the cell phone you cast into the water with your past life.
I'm passed it now, passed exams, passed caring how this ends.
It will end and it will take little pieces my soul with it,
like the peaceful, sweaty soles of my shoes,
as I remove my hat,
my shirt,
my jeans,
my socks,
and shoes
I bare myself to you,
no poet,
no sexual being,
just a hollow shell
for you to observe,
like the scars on my body,
that you could kiss or hit and I would not feel a thing,
for that will not happen, and we will not meet,
the world is to saturated in cow and sheep and conformist pig meat,
though if I should talk with you,
listen to you, look inside your vast mind,
I am told we can hold,
and hit,
and spit,
and kiss,
the way all lovers should,
for I may not 'Love the way you lie',
I may not see your 'Halo'
but I love you,
and a word like 'love' it cannot be broken,
or edited,
or reedited,
or comprehended in all it's plush confusion,
we are one,
we are ever-y-one.
We are forever.[/font]
I'm dripping, with the black liquid you dropped, from your paint pot,
on my head, from two storeys high, or stories,
like the tales you told me in the early hours of day, or tails,
like the animal that brushes it's way around my heels so affectionately. It heals.
The pain that you feel when the mental wind sweeps you up and everything seems ten times worse.
Pane, the window pane I looked through waiting for a father who would never love me
and I threw, threw away the only present he had given me, my blonde hair, but I am present here.
This is not another story, you need hear about a sad, little girl and her poor lack of daddy.
The rain pours, the sun shines, the world continues spinning and I just move with it.
My son, the one who would have stood in the moon knowing his mum loved him.
Keep mum.
No one can see the secrets we buried with an entire family,
know that I am a mystery,
my words can trick and tantalise you like a sea,
lapping you up and drowning you before you even know it's coming.
Cuming, to my own hand, for no one's there to ease that burden,
two bodies grinding together, sell the image, a little longer,
like the cell phone you cast into the water with your past life.
I'm passed it now, passed exams, passed caring how this ends.
It will end and it will take little pieces my soul with it,
like the peaceful, sweaty soles of my shoes,
as I remove my hat,
my shirt,
my jeans,
my socks,
and shoes
I bare myself to you,
no poet,
no sexual being,
just a hollow shell
for you to observe,
like the scars on my body,
that you could kiss or hit and I would not feel a thing,
for that will not happen, and we will not meet,
the world is to saturated in cow and sheep and conformist pig meat,
though if I should talk with you,
listen to you, look inside your vast mind,
I am told we can hold,
and hit,
and spit,
and kiss,
the way all lovers should,
for I may not 'Love the way you lie',
I may not see your 'Halo'
but I love you,
and a word like 'love' it cannot be broken,
or edited,
or reedited,
or comprehended in all it's plush confusion,
we are one,
we are ever-y-one.
We are forever.[/font]
Published 12th Jan 2011
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