deepundergroundpoetry.com
Weak Blook
Tires turn on familiar gravel
Hands catch breeze of common travel
Cigarettes burn with old skill
Lips touch with fading thrill
Feelings burnt still no shame
What can be asked of no flame?
Gasoline churns
My body burns
This windshield vendetta is not a game
Hands catch breeze of common travel
Cigarettes burn with old skill
Lips touch with fading thrill
Feelings burnt still no shame
What can be asked of no flame?
Gasoline churns
My body burns
This windshield vendetta is not a game
Published 3rd Dec 2009
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