deepundergroundpoetry.com

With a cherry on top

what're you doing here, child?  
don't you know this place  
is for the weary-headed, bloody-hearted  
and your face  
insults  
the very air  
sagging in our lungs?  
 
don't you know, child  
that these floating floor tiles  
only hold the 21 gram weight of  
a provable soul?  
 
your ego  
spread eagle on the bar leaves  
little to the mind's  
proverbial eye  
and we, i  
don't care to see the...  
 
might as well set chainsaw to tulip base  
or kiss the bedroom mirror in 6th gear  
it's all cliche, over-the-moon overkill  
 
but there, there  
don't cry  
crushed[here] is not forgotten  
just another story for the back shelf  
chat-life span complementary to  
an open tube  
o' pop-don't-stop potato chips  
 
what i'm trying to say  
i suppose, is:  
no, child  
this game  
is probably not for you
Written by Jestalessa
Published | Edited 15th May 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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