Untitled 2.

Water is a burnt substance
And time is dry
Like gin and roses in a wet cardboard box
I hate it when you cry.
I could love you
If I let myself fall
Into your cool.Grey.Eyes.
But they are as empty
As honest little lies
A picture cell of truth
Resides only at our outer edges
As you modify me into a more manageable impression.
I am tired of being someone else -
Not for you,but for myself
I would like to shake the cinnamon dust
Out of your hair,so fine and red
I would like to blow some intelligence
Into your stupid,pretty little head
Are you not aware of the perverse implantation
That makes me do the things I do
When I love you
Do you not know that I am an obsessional neurotic
With everything that that implies
And that besides tenderness lies cruelty
The most honest of alibis?
Water is a burnt substance
And time is dry
Like gin and roses in a wet cardboard box
I hate it when you cry.

 

your poetry is bad

 

Thanks.I presume you mean "Bad" as in awful and not "Bad" as in "Good".Yes I'm awful,but I'm I'm having a great time.

 

A bit harsh natural philosophy...

Keep writing Fairlight

 

I like this, I meant to comment when you first posted it but I didn't for whatever reason and never came back to it

keep writing, this isn't bad at all. I've read some bad poetry on HF lol and this doesn't come close

 

Short, sweet, and honest.. makes for a beautiful poem

 

She means badass bro, it may not be the smoothest verses but it'll get u recognized. You on that dust too yo, dats ill as shit!

 

Thanks Acek.But i wrote that poem months ago.Rainy bumped it for me.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6mr8p40ZxM"]Bringing Down The House - I got this outfit from yo mama - YouTube

 

5 Days Short Of 12 Months Ago To Be Exact...



Cheers Glen.