Black Poetry : The Wash Cloth

Kwegan

Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Dec 15, 2003
20
1
An unprejudiced piece
dangling from the corner
tattered in the middle
like sex was a coroner
and it was her tool
scrubbing tomorrow out of existence
while today you couldn't loose.
Unbiased piece of evidence
against multiple partners
you've been sharing
love with, dick spit
and a little of your ID,
spotted with invisible
bits of unwanted memories

-that he don't want to share
and she don't want to give,
contaminated with a little
lonely blues, some chunky
heart on tawny string, she’s
too young, and

him's a mess
his mother left him three months
still on his chest and the
baby mother won't stop
crowding his desk, for some fat
free milk and a designer dress,
and

her is rich in youth and love
can't give up her treasure too
quick, that’s the price women
pay for love. Still in high school
and the futures looking Bleak,
with a three Month pregnancy
under the sheets and a
physically abusive dick-


Dangling on the corner
in his basement room
torn in the middle
from years of use
invisible juices linger
on as proof, that he's
got major issues, but she's
my muse
 

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