I go to the mountains
(do every summer of heat strokes
and burning shrub)
and return to find you all
acting rowdy before gold plated idols
and the wanna-bes who suck up to them
you disgust me
I ask you to keep a vigil
deep in the starlit night and you fall asleep
drunk and sucked off
(and I know this will more or less
happen again in the future)
but for now all I can think of is smashing
these slates down on your nodding heathen heads
Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment