Lonely in Dream Town
Kwyjibo
Posts: 662
I am lonely in dream town
gentle devil doing my rounds
swerving past the drunken bores--
smirking at the sound of the storm
the big gong splash, flies by my ear
"I'm your huckleberry." come right here.
The orange obdurate moaning shell.
the vermilion piece of eternal Hell
frantic mother of Satan's son,
who plays in liquid, surely blood.
ptarmigan feather, in his coarse hair
I see his red eyes, through the black veil
I continue down the street
and each light pops to greet
me with the darness I deserve
for it my anonymity stays preserved.
The itch inside their mortal souls
I scratch with my tongue of lies.
gentle devil doing my rounds
swerving past the drunken bores--
smirking at the sound of the storm
the big gong splash, flies by my ear
"I'm your huckleberry." come right here.
The orange obdurate moaning shell.
the vermilion piece of eternal Hell
frantic mother of Satan's son,
who plays in liquid, surely blood.
ptarmigan feather, in his coarse hair
I see his red eyes, through the black veil
I continue down the street
and each light pops to greet
me with the darness I deserve
for it my anonymity stays preserved.
The itch inside their mortal souls
I scratch with my tongue of lies.
The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway, is that its you, and that you're standing in the doorway.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
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its really hard.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
and "I'm your Huckleberry" is actually from the movie tombstone.
Doc Holiday is a badass
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
am lonely in dream town
with gentle devil doing his rounds
and swerving past the drunken bores
while smirking at the sound of the storm.
The big gong splash flies by my ear
and “I’m your Huckleberry” sir, just steer.
This orange obdurate moaning shell
is vermilion pieces of eternal Hell
for frantic mother of Satan's son
who plays in liquid, surely blood.
Ptarmigan feather, in his coarse hair
that shadows red eyes like a veil.
I resume down the starlit street
and each night-light pops to greet
me with the darkness I deserve, and
for it my anonymity stays preserved.
I scratch the itch inside these dreaming
Souls with sweet, perfect, false dreams.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
-S. McLachlan
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.