Post by Steve on Sept 29, 2005 16:18:42 GMT -5
i want to drive a crossed the country. my tires no longer manufactured rubber but a scythe tearing the skin of our precious home. i want to look behind me and see a curling ribbon of earth coiling behind me like the green skin of a granny smith apple. i want to watch the dirt from the road plume up and fill my rear view mirror. block out the sky, the land, the in between area so that there is no motivation to travel backwards and lose focus on peeling America out of her skin.
i do not want to see America nude.
no pose holds interest, even displaying her
breasts
marshes
i want to see America stripped of everything
standing there behind Mrs. liberty just raw angry red
flesh. The liquid surrounding her muscles and the moist
cartelidge slowly drying in the Bay breeze.
i want to see every working of her body,
her rivers now dry, i want to hear her muscles
crack
and
snap
her tendons rip like a weathered rubber band.
i want to travel the road, a dream of youth, though a curse that will never be removed with old age. tired and grumpy i will hate the world for not being able to experience it all. young and pessimistic i hate it because as of now she only teases me with a falling shoulder strap, a casual blinking eye. Her lips are pursed and wet, and my pants are growing tighter around my pelvis, i lean in to taste her golden state tongue ravishing my big apple teeth. i reach out to touch her wheat field hair.
i can only love after i know it was thoroughly destroyed
she can only share my bed after i have seen all of her
colors she hides beneath her white surface.
i want to drink her black tears
eat her mocha fingers
bathe in her accents of thousand years.
but only after her skin lies charred beneath my tires
only after she accepts me as her equal
will i give her my skin to wear.
i do not want to see America nude.
no pose holds interest, even displaying her
breasts
marshes
i want to see America stripped of everything
standing there behind Mrs. liberty just raw angry red
flesh. The liquid surrounding her muscles and the moist
cartelidge slowly drying in the Bay breeze.
i want to see every working of her body,
her rivers now dry, i want to hear her muscles
crack
and
snap
her tendons rip like a weathered rubber band.
i want to travel the road, a dream of youth, though a curse that will never be removed with old age. tired and grumpy i will hate the world for not being able to experience it all. young and pessimistic i hate it because as of now she only teases me with a falling shoulder strap, a casual blinking eye. Her lips are pursed and wet, and my pants are growing tighter around my pelvis, i lean in to taste her golden state tongue ravishing my big apple teeth. i reach out to touch her wheat field hair.
i can only love after i know it was thoroughly destroyed
she can only share my bed after i have seen all of her
colors she hides beneath her white surface.
i want to drink her black tears
eat her mocha fingers
bathe in her accents of thousand years.
but only after her skin lies charred beneath my tires
only after she accepts me as her equal
will i give her my skin to wear.