you come to me and how cant i fall in love pouty lips and complaints my god the dance of looks to your toes and back at me i know my eyes arent made of bad memories and still you flinch i dont even mind the boring brown lipstick look and powder guck that you seem to adore
and of course i see thru those sunglasses move your fat ass and quit acting like your velvet panties i wanna see a girl not a music box ballerina whose never been fingered in a backseat valhalla how long you been in america
fairies are fun but come on and i wondered what old ladies who brush their poodles looked like when they were in art school
poetry wednesday