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Dance or Die

My sob story is not meant to be your personal allegory

Posted on 2009.08.18 at 14:08
My beloved facsimile
I want to breathe smoke and to consume the world starting with you.
We traveled across the universe to find that we have the same parts but differing hearts
Pass me cards filed with Tabasco shotgun blasts
Chose me to be your broken hands
You always got me to try new things
Now left with salty pretzels pouring down
I spilled letters all over the page
The summer sun cant even warm me
What happened to the days of facing the burning
Drowning in yelps of ecstasy enveloped by the hand of god
Bucking up on two wheels to feel the streams of air caress my face forever
Nothing is as disappointing as your wasted genius
I can still feel your bittersweet excuses pumping in my veins
I’m glad that you got away, but I am still stuck out here


Everyone's a critic (Anonymous) at 2009-08-19 15:41 (UTC) (Link)
i like this. --yusef
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