The Oyster


Deep blue sea

Shelled away from waters grey, trying to figure out how to have your fibres cut today.
Walk with your face, covered by frames, hair and there, drinking grace.
She spits at the first sign on substance in home, wraps you in tongue, vibrates your phone.
And by the time you know it, you’re another dead poet, swirled and pearled, solidified jewel with the timeless shine; you never knew that the girl was crime.
And she sits, about three inches above sea level, her heels buoyant, she cuts herself with a feather.
Hurt those who love, and love those who hurt the lovers.
You’re a big shot, lace panties, and the state of mind of a Glock….but what you thought was the surface, was just confusion from your drop…you see…as you thought you sat up top, you were down bottom blue….and your sky eyes were so gay..
Shelled away from waters grey, trying to figure out how to have your fibres cut today.

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
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