Science Fiction Love Poem
Count down to 71. We were all there dancing under the sun. And I remember you called me your favorite son of a gun, and I knew you meant it. No, I'll never forget it and our games.
Color color...we can't all live in black and white. Too bad. It would be out of sight. At least, I think it might.
It's a bulimic week. Well, it is. I have rendered myself functionally retarded. "what day is it?" See. I'd give my right nut to think again..or maybe to actually give a shit about what day it is. I don't want an answer to my question any way. Sum things taking over. Said, over and over. Yeah, I sing too much. These lengths. They are where I go to.
I am bitter toward everyone who was happy on Tuesday, except the birthday girls, and their kin. You all can go uncoil your skin.
Signing out of my liver. So what? Call me an Indian-giver. At least these things I know I can deliver. And I hope what I said makes you shiver.
Over and gout.
Color color...we can't all live in black and white. Too bad. It would be out of sight. At least, I think it might.
It's a bulimic week. Well, it is. I have rendered myself functionally retarded. "what day is it?" See. I'd give my right nut to think again..or maybe to actually give a shit about what day it is. I don't want an answer to my question any way. Sum things taking over. Said, over and over. Yeah, I sing too much. These lengths. They are where I go to.
I am bitter toward everyone who was happy on Tuesday, except the birthday girls, and their kin. You all can go uncoil your skin.
Signing out of my liver. So what? Call me an Indian-giver. At least these things I know I can deliver. And I hope what I said makes you shiver.
Over and gout.