Shake it By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
I can't...
My unbrushed palette
A flat dirty water pavement
The feel of your tongue
Saying "flat"
I remembered...
Thin cilia on the upper teeth
And she asked about your dying dad
I watched her feel better
And you knew that was why
I imagine...
Her and the last girl
Grinding their asses
On the cocks of actual men
Dancing and being young
I moved...
All the trash next to the bed
I want this to go away, really
This nervosity of another alone weekend
And laughable attempts to fix it
Really... parents are two lost people
With a chemical disposition to sustain you
By all accounts, you should be dead
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