Robert Alan
I am a tramp vomitting in a sewer,
And everybody says I'm an evil doer.
Those who don't point the finger
Become fewer and fewer; so now
We're all tramps vomitting in the sewer.
I am not a real person and I have no feelings;
I move around, upside down,
I hang from the ceilings.
I chew great mouthfuls of dirt as I lie;
I practice here for the day that I die.
I purge myself in you my drain,
You smile weakly and come again.
We breathe charcoal and chimney smoke
And pretend for days and quietly choke.
You and I are vessels till death provoke.
posted by Duck @ 1:35 PM
2 Comments
2 Comments:
Stop trying to look for me in what I write. I find that insulting.
Only children put themselves plainly in what they write. Adults hide themselves in there
gandai bacche blah blooh....
Actually adults advertise what they hide in what they write. But lets not get too technical about this, the milk is spilt as it were, a boobed scavenger hath leaked again (the imposter wala)
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