stuff

Jalso

Laugh with a mic dipped in

blood filled with oily boiling oil

eatin’ a mountain down to a bass stronger,

louder than banshee's metal chords.

 

It hurts my stomach,

my head is explodin'.

Your choice your choice.

Fight for blood.

Blood fights back and scabs over a cut,

but!

 

I’ll keep pickin’ pickin’ it,

Makin’ it bleed again.

Open up again.

I don’t want, I don’t want,

I don’t want to win.

I don’t like to follow.

I never want to lead.

 

So we just sit back

Mysteriously feeding,

feeding on the once good memories,

A valuable lesson taught by life’s down.

read the lines,

slipin’ on ice,

runnin’ like mice.

Coated like spice.

  • Author: Jalso (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 6th, 2011 13:21
  • Comment from author about the poem: got bored and didnt have anything to do enjoy
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 13
  • Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Cheeky Missy

    For bored with nothing to do, this fits. The touch of rhyming is nice and the imagery curious. The author's note really helps make sense of something a bit like nonsense. Interesting.



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