from a second story fire escape
I watch the prostitutes waltz
to the cry of the car alarm symphony
the hum of this city is my warm orgasm
ripening, spreading and pulsating
concealing our worst fears that occupy these streets
kids setting their hands on fire
and coffee stained books leaking
into bent necks and modern dance
oh how we danced
oh how we fucked















Comments
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it makes me think of someone reading poetry over an interpretive dance troupe. You could do that. Only it would be way cooler.
'kids setting their hands on fire
and coffee stained books leaking
into bent necks and modern dance'
Coffee stained books is as near to a perfect combination of words as i may have ever read.
Only bit I don't adore and want to kiss is 'concealing our worst fears that occupy these streets'. Seem's awkward somehow.
Please give me mooore.
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He's a boy, you wanna girl so tear off his cock, ties his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want,
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"A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic" Stalin
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