stack by Angela Thomas he can't talk on the phone because he's too busy getting that money, honey. stacking the cash and the grass and the ass. putting it all in a cup with chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream on-top and convincing a bouncer in times square that it belongs there. filling up cups and filling up holes where the deigned to be one just a few short years ago. sunken eyes and fallen chest, a beat long forgotten in something like the rhythmic pounding of traffic, i understand what you mean to say. yes, hookah, yes, salbert, yes. 05/07/2009 Posted on 05/08/2009 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/08/09 at 12:46 PM Heh. Wild and brutally clever. Very well done. Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)