Green spray paint
gives false advertisement
to scorched fields
What now?
What will happen to
the rest of the
blackened earth?
What now?
Where the fuck are
my paint on smiles?
Grins I could
prance around in
for miles
The whole package
Dimples and shit
Cripple free and all
Approach me
Read me a story
The one of my unrestrained hospitality
The pages are blank after 130
What now?
Where the fuck are
my paint on smiles?
Grins I could scratch at
and not even bleed
Approach me
-Hi, how are you!?
But no
Just fuck you
Smiles not even a
papercut could penetrate
Smiles that transform
love into hate
Smiles so unclean
Smiles I could have
left with the Machine
What now?
Where the fuck are
my paint on smiles?
Grins so warm
Grins so cold
Grins so comfortable
Grins if I had...
I would be as snug
as a bug
who dug his own grave.
Copyright 2003 John Michael Joseph Barnes
Copying this work to another webpage without author permission is plagiarism.
Plagiarism is a misdemeanor, usually punishable by fines of $100-$50000 and up to one year in jail.
Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/1313/27315 on Tuesday December 02nd, 2008 03:01 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
Comments on Neverlasting