oh these dreams, <br /> <br />infantile infanticide <br />damned if i could <br />wash these stains <br />away from a pant leg <br />whose drip dropped dice <br />love to play <br />crash with stains <br />of elastic thigh masters. <br />wanton rage <br />i roll with destruction <br />and make no sense <br />in sunny pastures, <br />but therapeutic <br />word games <br />do what they should <br />while <br />bronzed weight beavers <br />are <br />spun from my head. <br /> <br />she used to read you <br />tales of the hobbit <br />he lived in your heater <br />furnace <br />and two <br />you smiled while <br />wanting <br />liver train <br />gender <br /> <br />simple child <br />do what you do...<br /><br />David DeSantis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/too-drunk/
