deepundergroundpoetry.com

Old El Paso

It's a little chilly.
Tacos, making me feel things.
A lot of spicy green things.
Tomatoes.
Burnin' up the weak things.
I see the ceiling.
Falling through the floor.
Just a weakling.
On a tour, in the evening.
Burnt to the core.
These cacti keep stinging.
Born again.
The bells are ringing.
Cronos swallowed.
Can't stop drinking.
I'm off the wall.
A little green thing.
Satan called.
Thought I was dreaming.
Gave it my all.
This mountain is beaming.
No more balls.
Just receiving.
Written by AfterSexDilemma
Published
Author's Note
I like my tacos wide ;)
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