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She throws cheesecakes at her arteries, and hobbles down Central
by Johnny CrimsonKeep gossiping with Bitch
While I try and stare your clothes off
Into space is where you think i'm looking
Inside you is what I really see
You make me want to count your skin
And connect the dots that you don't have yet
Little scars that cover everything I do
Just look at Bitch and you will see what I mean
So hug me like you mean it girl
and hop in the car with Whats Hisname
The constant vision of me fucking you
Is the only reason I write at all 04/11/2007 Posted on 04/12/2007
Copyright © 2025 Johnny Crimson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/12/07 at 03:25 AM Nice anger, man. How can I not get into something that kicks this much ass? |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 11/28/08 at 04:05 AM sean, this is amazing... |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 06/10/10 at 02:44 AM Therein lies the fuel for the nature of feminine competition...and the ache for all those girls who never deserve such ghosts... |
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