Star fucked the highway,
Americana is my name;
Revolution is a pocket
Carries forever remains.
You with your big chalk talk
Playing taxi in cris-crossed musings
Like an off duty ticket master;
An expired joke
With an obscene ending
That dates your sense of amusement
To about nineteen fifty but-fuck no-where.
And this skull tattoo’d late night stalker
Has a skid mark diagonal to your
Latest amusement,
Which lights up the night life
Red, white and blue.
Tag: musings
A Chain of Cheap Hotels (day 266)
The terrible itch is creeping in
Under control, but so very present
focus, focus, focus
But I’ll dream a little longer
As I stand here naked under the shower
Move me closer to the stain
Drain my musings, and pop my pimples
Thrust me deeper into the present
With your parquet flooring, and tacky linens