Words slip off the edge of my vision.
Grasping clawing stretching, but they won’t be read.
White on black. Dancing away into the distance. Taunting teasing depressing. Mama, don’t take them away from me. Don’t strip me down naked to my bone.
What will I hide behind Mama?
I’m in tears.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
hmm reminds me of 'The End' by Jimmy. Similar thoughts running across.
That has suddenly exalted my random rant WF. Suddenly i feel it would only be appropriate for me to be whiskey-soaked as I read this.
my favourite though is "come on come on come on now touch me baby..." Ahhhhhh. what it does to me!
whiskey-soaked or whiskey freshend (wf) haha talk abt self-obsession
Post a Comment