Why I waste my time pondering thee... Why I waste my life with poems of thee... I do not know.
You are a mere bloody gash, On entire plane of skin...
Yet you are the bit of skin which requires something: Two pink band-aids. Two pink band-aids, on my bloody gash.
My bloody gash. Oh, Bloody Gash...
Queequeg89 · Sun Mar 30, 2008 @ 09:45pm · 0 Comments |