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The Journal of Johnny Crimson lookatem
04/04/2011 09:15 a.m.
Hell, I suppose everyone sells out eventually.
With the fuck and grit, and skin and placenta.
Tease the ever-dawning morn til it's teeth enlarge.
Give me something more than summer, the peeling paint inside her thighs.
I really had faith in you.
Good luck whipping the horse's eyes.
| Member Comments on this Entry |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 04/04/11 at 04:50 PM ditto ditto surprise surprise, Johnny. we are of a breed that doesn't know the meaning of the words,
Sell Out. I don't know what they can dangle in front of me to do such a dastardly thing, but they can save their thirty pieces of silver cause it ain't gonna happen, not now or ever. If I ever did, I could not look another poem in the face and vice versa. |
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