Hitech

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
new p

Submitted: October 11, 2009

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Submitted: October 11, 2009

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Dry hands beating the keyboard.
Eyes ...
Soul of sores,  bake your heart and  burn to infinity.
Body rough, embalmed with sin
What onto the tarsus, ripped bones in two
And hard slide to phalanxes.
Forehead, questionable, frowned at what each
Failure of Snood.
Sip of cold coffee mug, you looked already in the "universe of cigarettes"
Enjoy what you smoke floods the lungs each.
You're 16 and you looked at the street corner.
Warm clothing company lost soul.
Are you glad  having a D & G or Ford?
Mother accused them let you out. 
A hope injectsyour brain, too pusillanimous walking
In a world full of arrogance.
Feeding rhymes with a skeletal body.
Screaming, dreaming, crying, sleeping in fits of apoplexy.
Takes you on a new path a pair of conversion devil
Which have not changed for 3 years.
You know, tomorrow you reprogram ... one to be like new.
A new body, buried in piles of flowers.
By tomorrow all go .... this is a new life:
HiTech!


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