I used to party. Lines blue yellow white. Walked crooked sway fall dip into the closest dive. Truck drivers bikers and bass players all once loved your girl. Beaten into mental bondage by the drunk tweaker blinded by sunlight. We eat candy bars laced in lunacy. You never had to hide who you are. I am still playing peekaboo with my consciousness .
High times aka poem #5
Posted byBrigitte af TransmorvicaPosted inUncategorized
Published by Brigitte af Transmorvica
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