Poetry BLOG…



Damn I must of been the wind
of all the weeper’s beneath ink,

And with my voice your belly sunk
now I began to feel so drunk.

Color, Color on my bed
Oh boy, I must of heard you knock me out to bay
As my voice licked your aura,

and the flames filled up light, in this tiny little shack-
It was real, and I heard all those messages you sent

here it is, but in the night oh I couldn’t get it right….  Ohohh… 

Here is my hand and here is the evil
I open the doors for the people,
And all their little hearts at ease
for another pop bliss disease.
An eager eagle of talent scream
I never once left in between,

I never wanted the consent
Down my throat into the pit, with my head above water
oh show me please, if you are here,
I’ve become what I most fear,
and I know there’s no such thing as you
But I have seen the last of dawn far from bay.


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