Monday, May 3, 2010

::Work Slow::

Can I create work..
Can I create fire choosing my 'right'
Can you pass me a shot of lead..
Will the work make me break bread..

Figured you'll also take on my..

Will I also, figure my. instances.
Amongst the words filled like the
bottom hairs of a flys stomach. I still turn
to the night to feed my calm. * it. Cause the
reaction of that night that *ed and yelled tight,
was the same night that left my thumb
smelling right.. With a rubber
on my thumb I count fat or flow.
Let's get together and eat slow.

No comments: