The dehydrated working class poet. Not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Just hard being wrong for so long.
Tuesday, 14 April 2015
Cuban fury
i'll hold your hand and your hair back,
And we can pretend we're having fun,
so we don't have to go somewhere new,
and this is the gift i couldn't give to you.
A guilty pleasure,
too precious,
tieing notts in my belly as i know i am going to lose.
I like dancein on tables and gettin drunk, drunk enought to fall and stumble, to know im lost and feel its ok to mumble. time takes to long so im tryin to express how i feel. but the question is always there is any of this real?
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