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Poor Waters
Contributed by
screwge
on
Monday, 17th August 2009 @ 01:54:40 PM in AEST
Topic:
ambiguous
|
The wrath of dough-- Unctuous restaurants raid the street Of wasps. Dignity, Indian food smells like Arranged sweat, Yet that would get
To
Seeping walls.
A blindfolded woman who sniffs a shirt melee Is most Attracted to opposite ethnicity--though she knows Fairer moans Would get to Pervade her.
How that shirt would proposition, a lump Of spicy rice loved and later detested For its Raucous exit? And how the signs would shine for you at city's pith--
Until their power went abloom And dashed their shade of porn!
This place is sick and active like Poor waiters, Regretful diners squirting their brooding angle's Poor waters.
The strings of fiddle are threadbare When you strike them right And larksome Upon the cold approach.
And the dogs do not bother to save us-- In a crossfire of violent smells, each begging its Aggrieved bread.
Copyright ©
screwge
... [
2009-08-17 13:54:40] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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