So i'll walk the block wearing a red collar,
my veins throbbing with the morning sun
and maybe something else.
It could be the middle of winter for all I know,
and i'd still be burning hot inside,
my cheeks turning a foul red
warning, "stay away from me,
you don't know what you'll get".
It's the uncertainty that kills me.
Then and there a woman passes by,
asks for directions, and flustered
I follow her, too polite to say no,
I never say no enough, no to the pidgeons
crowding around for a share of my sandwich,
I give it to them, although I'd just as well stomp them
to disembodied feathery corpses in the same instant.
Who are they to me? I do not know
their faces. They pass me by the street in colors:
red, blue, brown, violet, striped, and maroon.
Sometimes I look so hard I almost forget what I am wearing.
I do not think it matters very much what I am wearing,
only what they think of what I am wearing.
I run naked in my house when my roommate is out.
He doesn't give a fuck
about how or where am I,
only demands that I keep clothed, and besides,
it's the middle of winter, and I need all the warmth I can get.
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
Last edited by Laces Out Danny at Jul 8, 2009,