We’re fighting with the eyes of the blind

Tipping scales of Cocaine dust, my beauty with you, an all I trust

Dancing dead with kites for heads, with ice for brains, and little gold chains

Chunky as sweet, as death is delete, my eyes in yours, I’m high……what’s worse?

Nothing at all, ecstasy in fall- but we run like lions, prides an all

with leaves as paper, and pens as squalls, my mother, your mother, step and stoops

brown shins, with a little, small bruise.

So everyday, in the month of may- come see me, come see me….don’t shy away.

Unless blood is your purse, which I don’t mind, but even worse- is how kind you are,

we need not rehearse.

But you’re wonderful, harshly wonderful! Met you with a toothpick in your mouth wonderful.

Pink and Green dress, but I digress, so let’s………talk less, and walk with no shoes. For this is Vegas!

Fuck the Catfish, and Guitars- Fuck me Blues…….

I love your non-smile, how it drives me wild….fertile, child, river Nile in a mile, or forever hold my peace….as room service walks by….go ahead, answer your phone..

and tell your boyfriend, I said “Hi……”

You don’t like players, that’s what you say….but you really wouldn’t mind a millionaire.” – Amy Winehouse



About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s