obliviousfocus

Poetry time. And don't ask me where it is comoing from. I am tipsy and wanting to be silly.

Stare at me one last time
Lets finger the dischord
Our words now axioms of pain
Shall we lie to the present
Simply to slip out of the past
Are memories just sheeps clothing
Paradigms of experiences yet to come
Will we lock ourselves in this moment
And cast the keys away to our own salvation
Or shall we pick the lock to our souls
Shedding the weight of our sins

Second Poem

I once knew a harlot
Who could ne'er say no
No matter who requested
Her tits she'd always show

The color of money
Her hands would not pass
Even though she owned no watch
She could tell the time by the wrinkles on her ass.