Naomi Foyle Loaded Player I said I wanted to listen to something that beckons forbidding and lush "Something that beckons forbidding and lush? Ah yes, you want to keep talking to me" wish a place between your face pack your penis in wet sand stroke a stripper's outer space the clock tower holds my head in its hands in my game of Russian Roulette everyone loses their senses bury me under your tree of CDs Next |
The East Village Poetry Web |