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Bellhops, Have Mercy
I've thought for so long that my actions all turned to ash
While crashing on the motel floor of stacked magazines
That I've chose to double time as pillows so I dream of Hollywood scandel,
Wishing for the remote like it was the holy grail
Living in some jet set turbo hell when all I want is the truth:
How many drinks can we sneak before bed?
Can we fight the devil?
Do we have enough lead?
Are we beautiful enough for this miasma because my skin has become frail for drama,
Lacking the elasticity to repel you
I can't help but to embrace the wild side,
Let's swing,
throw on something jazzy and swing
From crystal ballroom's sharp chandeliers
and spit on thrift suits
A neon blast paints us both as we make eye contact,
For one second two became one
But the party doesn't start until I get this God damned cork unplugged
Until I get the TV unplugged
And send it hurtling twenty stories until it becomes one,
I want this motel to melt inside my eyes begging the question:
Do they have room service?
I remember reading this
The first time.
I like it alot.
Chadical
You are sooooo loyal to Postpoems and I will read you more often. "...my skin has become frail for drama..." captured my imagination big time. Nice image for so many possibilities. See you around ~slc~
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