Here you are Inside Fried-egg Mind
Goulet
Posts: 918
Ginsberg bats cleanup, while Keats
hits a touchdown for two points;
and all the times I’ve laughed
clamp up and drain out through my buttonhole
as I deposit some calcium on the goalpost,
and whisper into my ears
about solar eclipses and the whereabouts
of shirtless chicks. Rumbles by hurriedly,
the train does. But it disturbs me
less then the dancing girls made of marmalade.
Can we really be on 3rd and Western again?
Seems the buttermilk biscuits would have told
me something worth while. But nowadays
they just whine about dead poets and deader poems.
I laugh at them. I hate
them, all their hands and hairs groping me.
It is windy, though, outside my window.
Like cattle mooing in the slaughterhouse.
hits a touchdown for two points;
and all the times I’ve laughed
clamp up and drain out through my buttonhole
as I deposit some calcium on the goalpost,
and whisper into my ears
about solar eclipses and the whereabouts
of shirtless chicks. Rumbles by hurriedly,
the train does. But it disturbs me
less then the dancing girls made of marmalade.
Can we really be on 3rd and Western again?
Seems the buttermilk biscuits would have told
me something worth while. But nowadays
they just whine about dead poets and deader poems.
I laugh at them. I hate
them, all their hands and hairs groping me.
It is windy, though, outside my window.
Like cattle mooing in the slaughterhouse.
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
::applauds:: Love it. Makes me want to give the finger to high school English class.
I know that wasn't the point so much, but... well... yah.
Atleast that's what I got...
...The confusion expressed is really beautiful...