Slurring, slobbering,
on drunken fingers,
I wrote my
short life stories
to you once.
Now, neath buttery moons,
once slick with innocence,
I am melting,
ageing,
into cool solidification.
Less able to urgence,
I am
more inclined,
to rot
peacefully.
Those blinding,
broadening horizons,
have become
unspoken textures,
having nothing to do within reach.
And fabric was always intangible.
Visible like luck,
disguised in drool.
You would never dream
of betting on me now.
Visible like luck
- hester_prynne
- Posts: 2363
- Joined: June 26th, 2006, 12:35 am
- Location: Seattle, Washington
- Contact:
Visible like luck
"I am a victim of society, and, an entertainer"........DW
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