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coconuts

  • 11-10-2005 3:06pm
    #1
    Closed Accounts Posts: 224 ✭✭


    sometimes she wants the clarity
    of a televised suicide
    that eloquent resentment
    of secrets, dreams and useless lies

    she tastes eucalyptus
    in the morning fog
    something so exotic
    she craves the less mundane
    and through her weighted tirade
    like a saxaphone solo
    she revs me into mutiny
    and makes it android sane

    to dissapoint the waiters
    the ones who beg to feel
    and not anoint the saviours
    and their one achilles heel
    and outright fight the liars
    the ones with sympathy
    and let her make believe
    that all she wants is me


Comments

  • Closed Accounts Posts: 27 name_less


    been there man. maybe not quite in those words, but i know just what your saying. nice poem


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