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Birds sing in the muted light
drugged up again, i see.
You have to be to hear colors,
taste sounds.
All things stale resound and beckon-
food for the pigeons, filthy creatures.
Zeppelin warned of this,
floating above my bed in neon.

Nothing to console
when drinking alone.

Cut up lullabies warp in and out of earshot.
The baby cries in the other room.
Mommy can't come now, baby.

She's a crack whore.
I got the veins to prove it.

What can I say?
Rich girls get bored.
©2007-2009 ~realemopirate
:iconrealemopirate:

Author's Comments

eh.

Comments


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:iconaltheia-mizu:
:wow:

--
Life is short, eat dessert first!

Amazing photographs! [link]

I can't understand why people are frightened by new ideas. I'm frightened of old ones.
:iconrealemopirate:
I take that as a good sign?

--
I can't make it on my own cause my heart is in Ohio. But if my heart is there, where's my liver?
:iconaltheia-mizu:
definitely!

--
Life is short, eat dessert first!

Amazing photographs! [link]

I can't understand why people are frightened by new ideas. I'm frightened of old ones.

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June 8, 2007
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