stuck to a keyboard with extra special plans. dead in th water dead in my hands. i move with a slickness that can only be traced, to the move in your quickness. The move of your face. im typing and spitting at all that i was. with big licked plans and dirty pants.. i'm all together yours. ive known a few priorities, that have cut you and me. but now its all within a week away.. and i've got the right to see.
Reason for writing:
i just felt like throwin some words down...
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Carlos T.Rodela libra.