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Liquid down the drain
by Johnny CrimsonConcrete tools and
whatever we could find.
Fucked like the cracks of a stonemans
face.
Split me triple
I'm robusting.
Call me cupped, that
throat slappy pigment.
I picked out her wardrobe
from across the Atlantic and when
we met it was all train station glances
and "what if" lullaby's. 12/21/2008 Posted on 12/22/2008
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/22/08 at 06:28 AM This feels like something you pieced together from a dream that came from waking up and going back to sleep a few times during the night. I like that. Good stuff, man. |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 12/22/08 at 04:27 PM this is short compared to what you normally do, but you still managed to pack it with you exceptional way with words. i wish i could "cut" like you do... |
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