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pretty boys dig graves
he seared your tasty taste buds
with a sprinkling of his salt,
restricting pints of his cum
for skinny girls with knobs
for shoulders, girls with stars
drawn in purple magic marker
covering their chests; imaginary
tattoos on innocent girl flesh.
he spiked your purile thoughts
with a twist of his martini,
curbing cartons of his cigs
for twiggy blondes with steel
for eyes, blondes with hearts
sketched in orange india ink
scattering their thighs; phantasmic
designs on naive blonde skin.
he seared and spiked you,
restricting and curbing himself.
you stood tall and proud, smoke
dribbling from your yellow lips,
turning your back on his promises,
promising yourself to never go
back to what you were before.
he watched you walk away.
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Comment by: Gregory - 2007-02-22 09:35
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| Such imaginative use of words.Quite dazzling. |
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| After reading this several times, I am still not sure what your point was, if you had one, but your first stanza reached out and grabbed me, and compelled me to read on. There were some great images going on in this one. |
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| i really like your wording here..and your style..and i think i like the first paragraph the best..way to just put it out there and still keep it in line..i think its very interesting .. |
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Comment by: - 2007-02-22 03:57
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| i love it - provacative |
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| Goodness me Sherry this is brilliant, it has rythum, style, subtle repitition, impecable imagery, it is dark and exciting and leads you on mesmerised of as if spiked by a twist of martini! Love it to bits x |
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