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By coujeaux Date: 2005 Jun 27 Comment on this Work [[2005.06.27.12.21.32338]] |
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Bloodinken scrawl, yet another tell-all, throw caution to wind, watch exasperation condense, Plucked truth at long last from her arcticwaste simmerpot to find an outroad worth two cents. Hop off that apathetic bitchpose sympathy pedestal for a moment and let another sister cry, 'Cause the line of pity-me brethren stretches two equators long; they all wanna give it a try. Featured attraction at the bazaar ranges from the sublime to absurd, separated so razorthin, I couldn't part the seas of these refugees with the word of God and an army of a million men. To look on my face, you'll see legacies of disgrace, equal triumph, in between anyone's guess, But from beginnings of my dalliance with the fairer half all I ever wanted was sanity in a dress. Appetizer, blue-eyed Canadian whore; entree, feasted on one more; bad service, leave no tip, Whoever praised southern cuisine habaneroed their palate clean to rid aftertaste from their lip. Boy, gluttony's the deadliest sin, maybe you're the unluckiest djinn or just a sucker for azucar, Mix it with a lil' spice, it tastes very nice but their caffeine's made you into an insomniac so far. As I ain't no femme analyst sage and my protestations of rage are ununique, I must not get it, She flashes a nervous smile and puts forth no obvious denial, she's my target and I must hit it. Ladyblues blacken every night she seeks out delight; you give them little stars, pinpoint escape; As she sweetsplits the dim she gets momentary relief from him; swallowing pride, lustgulf agape. No elixir shall I be, poor unfortunate me or so you believe; she gets off, away I go to next in line, He who plows fertile fields reaps the choicest yields; methods or excuses, she got hers, I got mine. |