|drugs frying my mom
I am a funeral home walking into light that police cars destroy
with their tolls and cocaine
place me, truck me to the reservation, where the natives hydrate me
30 Nov 10
Rated 10 (8.8) by 2 users.
Active (2): 1
Inactive (13): 1, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(50 more poems by this author)
(4 users consider this poem a favorite)
Add A Comment:
write another too... write 50 and it'd be a beautiful book.
the focus of this is so tight. i think that's what this one has that your others don't. it's like the others shotgun about twenty of these and they're pleas for sanity, and this one is a picture of the author writing the poem.
'hydrate me' is kind of trite... like, what would they have for you at all? raindances on your rainbow? 'dehydrate' would fit the poem into the socket wrench, but it's probably not at all what you want us to read from this. do you really think there's an easy solution to your life which isn't going to happen by writing and creating art?
oh man, so many good stuff i've missed lately.
this rehydrates and dehydrates all at once.
this is completely awesome.
read this aloud. bloody brilliant. every words impeccably placed.
Whoaaa. Love this.
And I agree with bmike, 'dehydrate' would kill it
best thing ive read all month danny
Wow: wow. Nihilo: love it.