segunda-feira, 19 de março de 2012

She was furniture

She is nothing but a road sign.
An arrow for my eye.
Allbeit easing the friction of my grind.
Loosening the tightness of the knot life ties.
It was a dry night party she was a long sofa for sports people.
The alternative crowd and I layed low as periphery beetles.
Beer was scarce so I went up stairs and there she was a queen size bed.
So I lay on her and before long she was picking pieces from my head.
For so long i´d been rolling courage just to meet her.
My cold heart edges forward toward this woman three bar heater.

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