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by Johnny Crimson

A Silver dress hemmed right
where it needs to be,
danced and folded around the skin.

Well You Can Forget It!!

Chopper me in this fuckin' hell.
This pity lined catastrophe.
Like blood through a blow gun,
all it does is sting and splat
and you never get apologies when to
expect them.
And you never get shorter when you say something ignorant.

You never wore them,
did you?


I've fished and fished
this entire island,
she had her eyes closed in every pose.

Primp and puberty,
well color me properly,just pencil me in.
A pretty shameless fucking scenario,
you getting married and all.

I hope Han Solo here
treats you right.
I hope he fucks you until
that eye pops out.
That third one we discussed
on the back of the bus
in junior year.

You know the one that attracts
you and I,
It controls every movement.
Every stalking hour.
Every fucking picture printed
and taped to my bedpost.

Every lost daydreaming hour of work.
Every knife bought to avenge the eye.

And when it pops out,
if you could be so kind
and to send it certified mail,
with return receipt.

And then we can sleep,
or you and him can,

Cos you gave me
my lust back.
or the ability to that is.


Posted on 01/24/2008
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Nanette Bellman on 12/05/08 at 05:41 PM

why haven't i read this before? and why hasn't anyone ever said anything about it??? seriously. this is my life at this moment. very seldom do i find something where every line, i mean EVERY line means something to me. thanks.

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