Saturday, December 16, 2006
 | What the hell bitch? You ran away, Taking my, Cheese, Meat, Butter, And spreads, The things, Of meaning, To my slices of bread; I sit, In hunger, This bland taste, Of bread and ketchup, Oozing pieces, Of iron tasting flour, Waiting for you, To come back home, And feed my soul. |
No comments:
Post a Comment