Thursday, February 2, 2012

So, Shall we play?

The game’s exciting, Russian Roulette is fun too but you see, you son of a bitch, I don’t have a gun
It is just rum, not acid, you tripped your turquoise whims to the beat of a bitch and I have to wake up to a timed breakfast
The cosmic conspiracy works on days the moon looks likes the sun, a fireball without balls
But then balls were never what you played with and I”ll grant you that; I’m stronger after all
The purple smoke I saw you stitching the day you kissed her bottom
Yes, after she had rinsed it, but does that give you as much as an iota of chance
For the darkness of a cold night hides so much,
More than even those dark shades that you had brought from the mall
In the broken bathroom of which I had shat once
After watching a movie that ends with the hero dying of cancer.

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