The Metal Man
He said
I'm having problems just operating right
My gears run sqeaky and the air runs tight
The skies and eyes, the lies
The bending of your thighs
Has me pushed down, might
Hey, he said
You want to see the place where I last bled?
It's behind all the metal and behind all the art
Look behind the being smart and pry my blackened lounges apart
I think you'll find a worn out piece of muscle there, and I believe it is my heart
He said
Hold it, sqeaze it, please just believe it
Or grind me to dust between your fairy teeth
And let the unforgetting rust hit
Poetry by lou bergs
Read 617 times
Written on 2005-06-26 at 12:49
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
F.i.in.e Moods |
chasingtheday |
Texts |
by lou bergsLatest textsWhite and prettyOne day and all night Some steam Desert Exhale a fable |
Increase font
Decrease