March 2011
February 2011
The Coolest
She would be my queen, I could be her king. Together, she would make me cool. And we would both rule, forever. And I would never feel pain and never be without pleasure, ever, again. And if the rain stops and everything’s dry. She would cry, just so I can drink the tears from her eyes. She’ll teach me how to fly, even cushion my fall if my engines ever stall and I plummet from the sky. But she will keep me high. And if I ever die, She would commission monuments on her bosom, to hum. Or maybe she’d retire as well, a match made in Heaven set the fires in Hell.
