Topic: Hogan's | |
---|---|
I used to love god when he paid for my drinks
but he swallowed his liver and left me alone. The devil and I then gave dating a try - gallons of cigarettes, packets of Rye - searched for harlequin girls with their hammering eyes, but we stammered, enamored by subsequent tones. But when god got the tab it seemed all that I had was as wide as the world and as deep as my dreams. Before I could tell what the silent soul thinks, before I got handcuffed to work out my kinks, and the devil denounced me in all of his inks, I could paint up my love in a thousand bright streams. The devil was smooth, though - no, - don't get me wrong, like vodka on ice with a strawberry twist. Despite having all of the wrong dreams go right, as pragmatic pretension invaded my sight, and I tried to stay grounded, tied tight to a kite, I had love in my veins and new chains on my wrist. But god's credit ran dry like the lakes of my eyes, and together we ran our souls down through the sinks. And the devil won't question despair if it's free. No, especially when empathy answers for me. So I'm swallowing sorrow while sorrow's still free, as I stalk out my god to ask him what he thinks. |
|
|
|
I completely understand this, it speaks to the me that formed a few years ago. Perfect.
|
|
|
|
'Despite having all of the wrong dreams go right' ...how true that is at times. really enjoying your writes
|
|
|
|
nicely done
|
|
|
|
powerfully written -I like
|
|
|