Because I have thoughts that walk around on crutches. March 21, 2008
Posted by onmytangent in Writing.trackback
The other fish are dead.
Our curiosity widens
narrow streets, swept
clean of glass and debris.
We are two.
Endless and spendless.
Spending our time
on imaginary yachts,
claiming our irresponsibility
as theirs. Hers. His.
Not Ours.
Maybe.
If the price is right four fights
fought dirty,
before the night rests
our joint will blow
up
blowing this snooze
quickly and slickly.
Our answers wait for none.
Especially Us.
Duuuuuude.
Did you write that?
yeah..